


Fortune Favours the Brave

by MagicandMess (magicandmess)



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2018-10-24 00:18:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 38,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10730295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicandmess/pseuds/MagicandMess
Summary: It's her only chance to get her job back. If she wants to wrestle again, she has to denounce her friends and join the group who has dominated and tormented the WWE in recent months. If she wants to wrestle again, she has to Evolve.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N : So, this is my first wrestling fanfiction in around 10 years (which makes me feel very old!) and thanks to the recent acquisition of the WWE Network I've had a flood of inspiration from years ago. It is a reworking of a story I began a few years back and which I published on a couple of different platforms. I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy planning/writing it and all feedback is welcomed. Just please don't be too harsh with an old lady who's trying her best!

Chapter 1

* * *

 

It hadn't registered at first. She had been too lost in her thoughts about Matt, unable to make sense of what he'd just done, what he'd caused. In fact, she had been halfway up the ramp, tears in her eyes, when the realisation hit her. As the fans chanted her name, some screaming, begging her not to go, she paused, her whole body shaking as she turned to look back at the ring, the bright lights blinding her momentarily. What did she have if she didn't have wrestling? Her entire world had been the squared circle for the past five or so years; everything she did had been about winning, about being the best, about being Lita. Yet here she was, her whole world ripped from under her in the space of one match. Had he planned it all along? He must have. That was the only answer – no doubt he had concocted the plan with Bischoff himself, the two of them huddled together, plotting how best to truly destroy her.

A sob racked her body and any attempt at hiding her tears was forgotten and she found herself openly crying, wiping at her face with the back of her hand. As the strobe lights and bright colours of the audience merged into one big, watery blur, she turned, stepping through the curtain. It had been her last time in front of the WWE fans and she'd gone out as a joke, humiliated by the man she loved and her very identity stolen from her when Bischoff had fired her. She was nothing, now. Nobody.

It took all Lita's strength to hold herself up as she leaned against one of the large, metal containers backstage, the chrome cool against her skin as she tried to force herself to breathe. She'd never taken a panic attack before but that was the only thing she could guess this was. The walls seemed to close around her, her heart pounding mercilessly against her chest and it was all she could do not to collapse, grasping onto the cold metal, she struggled, alone in the dark gorilla position, the stage hands who waited there casting worried glances at the former diva.

"Is she okay?" one of them whispered, not wanting to get too close. "We can't have her like this – the Rico and Venis match is coming up. Go get Stratus."

* * *

The soothing voice of Trish Stratus seemed to bring her round, a warm hand rubbing circles on her back as the Canadian promised everything would be okay. It took a few seconds for Lita to gather her surroundings, to realise that somehow Trish had brought her back to the divas locker room. "Can you hear me?" Trish asked, and judging from the look on her face, it wasn't the first time she had asked that question. Lita nodded, catching a glimpse of her ashen, mascara stained face in one of the many mirrors around the room. "Are you okay? Do you want some water? Anything? You had me worried for a minute…"

She knew she should answer Trish, to tell her that she was fine – the crease between the blonde's eyes was a tell-tale sign that she wasn't kidding about being worried – yet she couldn't bring herself to reassure the other woman. "Why me?" she asked, her voice hoarser than usual. "What did I ever do to deserve that? I wasn't being selfish… I just… I thought…." She had thought he was going to propose, that they were going to get back together and everything would be perfect, just like they'd been before her injury. She'd been so certain. Taking a deep breath, Lita pushed to her feet which struggled to support her weight. "I need to go. I need to find Matt and I need to… I need to go." Reaching for her leather duffel bag, she stuffed her belongings into it as quickly as she could, ignoring Trish's protests as she tugged on her jacket and reached for her dog's carry-bag, McKenzie whining as Lita hauled him upwards. Trying to leave, she did her best to pull herself out of her best friend's grasp. "I can't Trish. I can't, let me go." With a final tug, Lita fled the locker room.

Denial was usually the easiest step to take when faced with such devastating news, yet it was near impossible to convince herself that she'd got it wrong, no matter how many times she repeated it in her mind. It had to be some sort of mistake – Matt wouldn't hurt her like this. He loved her. He'd always loved her… Shaking her head, she made her way through the winding, grey corridors, avoiding the eye contact of stage hands, EMTs and wrestlers alike; she refused to cry, to let people see that weakness again. She'd shown enough of that on the ramp, after all. No, she had to leave the building with her head held high – whatever this was, it would get fixed. She just had to find Matt. She had been so lost in her thoughts, in her silent mantra that she would fix things, that she barely registered the sneering face of Triple H coming into view.

"Lita, Lita, Lita…" Hunter drawled, arms wide as he drew nearer. "What's this I hear about you being fired?" Naturally, he did nothing alone, and as she moved to side-step him, her way was obscured by Dave Batista, the large man taking up more of the corridor than a human had any right to and Lita flinched, taking a step back as she craned her neck to look up at Evolution's animal. "So, I was thinking, what with you being out of a job and all… I'd give you another chance to earn that dollar I offered you last week."

"Screw you, Hunter," she responded, hitching the strap of her bag higher onto her shoulder and making a second attempt at moving past Batista.

"For a dollar?" Hunter replied, Batista eliciting a low laugh as he moved aside watching her every movement. "I'd want change back…"

She wanted to retaliate, to scream at him that he was an asshole, that she hated him and to beat her fists into his face, dig her nails into his skin and make him bleed, just to make him feel half as painful as she felt, but she knew it was no use. There was no use fighting guys like him and now that Stone Cold was gone, there was nothing stopping him beating the shit out of her. Granted, she would have preferred that to the verbal beatdown Matt had handed her but rather than cause a scene, rather than fight, she sighed, turning her back on the former World Heavyweight Champion and, doing her best to ignore the profanities he called after her, she headed for the front door.

Rounding the final corner, Lita let out a frustrated groan as, once more, her path was blocked. This time by Christian. "Please, not right now…" she began, her tolerance levels for the man in front of her already pushed to their limits.

"Where are you going? Where are you going to, huh?"

Was he serious? Lita's hands fisted in her hair as she struggled to believe what she was hearing. "Where am I going? I'm fired. I'm leaving the building. I have no boyfriend, I have no job. Are you trying to rub it in?" Once again, she found herself wanting to punch the man in front of her, though she didn't raise a hand – she was defeated and all she wanted to do was get out of this building and do something – anything! – to convince her that this was a dream.

"Wow – no. No, nothing like that," Christian assured her, raising his hands, and shaking his head. He sounded sincere enough, and she was tempted to believe him but after the night she'd had, she wasn't all that keen in believing men. "Look, hear me out, okay? I've been thinking – you heard Bischoff earlier, right? He owes me one. I was part of his Survivor Series team. He gave me a favour and if I want to use that to get your job back…" His voice softened, and the wicked glint which usually played in his eyes was nowhere to be seen.

"For me? You'd do that…for me?" It was difficult to believe and she was determined not to get her hopes up, but she couldn't help the almost begging tone which slipped into her voice.

"For you." Extending his hand to take her duffel bag, Christian offered her a small smile – not the one she was used to, not the one that the world saw. This smile was small, timid, gentle. Sincere. "Come on, we'll go talk to Bischoff, we'll settle things. Okay?" Taking the bag from her, Christian leaned down, scratching McKenzie behind his ear.

Seeing the way the dog reacted, leaning in to the Canadian's hand, she smiled. She had always been a firm believer that dogs had intuition – maybe that explained why Kenz had peed in Matt's shoes so often – and watching the way her beloved pet reacted to Christian, she couldn't help the small feeling of relief which washed over her. "Okay," she responded finally, before leading the way back through the hallways to Eric Bischoff's office.

"And, you know, if you need anything – a shoulder, an ear, anything – I'm here for you, yeah?" She knew it was too good to be true, that Christian had to have some sort of motive, but she had no other option – he was the only one who could get her job back. Nodding her head in thanks, she offered him a smile in return. If he really could pull this off, if Bischoff was forced to give her her job back, she would be eternally grateful; she would owe him everything. But owing Christian everything? It was still preferable to being jobless.

Knocking almost timidly on Eric Bischoff's door, she had all but forgotten about Matt Hardy – that was a problem for another day, and not one anyone but herself could fix – and when she heard a call of 'Come in!' from within the room, her mind was on just one thing: her job. Christian slipped passed her, entering the room first, Lita entering just in time to see the General Manager of Raw close over his phone. "Ah, Lita, just the person I was looking for," he began, a grin tugging unnaturally at his face. "Now I know why you're here, Christian, and let me tell you, it's too late. I don't want to hear it. You cannot use your favour. Not tonight." As Christian exploded in protest, Bischoff raised a hand, directing his words to Lita. "I was just trying to call you. It seems I might have been a little, well, a little harsh when I fired you."

Exchanging incredulous glances with Christian who fell silent instantly, Lita raised an eyebrow; there had to be some sort of catch here. Bischoff was the epitome of harsh – he had made a career out of it, after all – and there was no way he was going to have a sudden change of heart now. "Go on…" she replied, watching him with great suspicion.

"It seems to me that, whether I like it or not, you have a certain fan base, a certain something you bring to the women's division that I wouldn't want to see go to another company," he continued, an air of arrogance following him as he spoke. "And so I was thinking that, perhaps, you could continue wrestling for the WWE. Under one condition. Now, it is my way or the high way, Lita, remember that. All I ask," The room fell silent, Lita watching him with wild eyes as Christian looked on, breath held. It was obvious that whatever he was about to suggest was not a question. It was do or die. "is that you manage Evolution."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N : Thank you to the readers so far, it really does mean a lot to know that there are some people who want to read a story set thirteen years ago. Special thanks to OutTheWindow for their review! Anyway, thanks again! And I hope you enjoy this chapter!

The spluttered cough which emanated from Christian broke the silence, and Lita watched as he gawped at their General Manager, knowing the shock on his face must have been mirrored on her own. She'd known it was too good to be true – as he'd spoke, she'd allowed herself to think that there was a chance; that the stipulation he was offering wouldn't be that bad. She'd never thought for one moment that it would be something like this. It had to be some sort of joke, yet as Christian threw a barrage of questions at Eric, she found herself remaining in silence, staring at the muted television that was playing in the background. Evolution themselves illuminated the screen, hammering away at the World Heavyweight Champion in their three-on-one match-up. "Now, Christian, I'm sure our friend here has a lot of questions she wants to ask about my offer and I can't help think she'd feel more comfortable without you in the room. Now, if you'd like to step outside…" Eric began, motioning towards the door and snapping Lita from her trance-like state.

"Lita…" Christian began, touching her arm, concern etched all over his face.

"It's fine," she said, though it was anything but. "Look, I'll give you a call later, yeah?"

"You can't seriously be considering this. It's worse than being fired," the blond man said, brows knitting as he handed over her bag. "Lita, tell me you're not actually thinking about doing this."

It took all her might to shrug her shoulders, avoiding eye contact as she swallowed thickly. Her silence taken as her answer, Christian made to leave the room, only stopping when the redhead spoke his name. "Christian," she said, his head whipping round at break-neck speed. "Please don't tell Trish about this. Not yet. Not until I've made up my mind." There shouldn't have been a mind to make up, she knew. She knew that, she did, but as Batista squared up to Goldberg, she couldn't help the niggling voice of doubt.

As the door closed in his face, it was hard not to register the look of hurt and confusion Christian wore, even as she tried to avoid his eye. "So…" Eric began, grinning almost maniacally. There was something about the look on his face, the way the grin never quite met his eyes and the way his jaw twitched, which left Lita ill at ease. He looked just as strained as she did, as uncomfortable, and something told her that this little 'solution' wasn't one he had come up with by himself. But that could only mean… Her train of thought was interrupted by Eric's cell phone, the tinny ringtone echoing through the room. "If you'll excuse me," he said, giving her no chance to excuse him as he followed Christian in his exit from the room.

Alone in the room, her attentions turned once again to the screen, where Randy Orton had vaulted over the top rope, tagging himself into the match. It was hard to look away from. He had been a nobody before Evolution. In fact, besides one or two mentions of him from Stacy in her occasional calls to the redhead, she could remember very little about him. Yet here he was, exchanging blows with the World Heavyweight Champion. Batista, too, she realised, had made little impact on her until Evolution. Evolution who, by the looks of things, were launching a vicious three-on-one beat down. They worked as a team, she noted, watching Goldberg take the RKO, followed by the Batista Bomb and then, what it had always been about, the Pedigree. It was like a pack of animals, each of them taking their turn while Ric cheered them on from the ringside.

And yet there was something almost enviable about the four of them, that sense of togetherness they seemed to share – something she hadn't felt since the early days of Team Extreme, when everyone had been singing from the same hymn sheet - and, she couldn't deny it, that elevation the faction had given Orton and Batista… It seemed so tempting and her hands grew clammy, her heart racing. That was, of course, until the bell rang. As the match ended, Evolution pounced, the younger members grabbing at Goldberg's arms, holding him in position as Triple H headed off to get a weapon. No, she thought, snapping to her senses. How could she have been so stupid? Grabbing her bag and her dog-carry, she shook her head. She couldn't fraternise with those sort of people. She couldn't. They were vile. They were amoral. And there was absolutely nothing they could give her that would make working with them worth it. Not even a job.

She had expected Christian to be standing outside, waiting for her to make her decision yet, throwing the door open, she was met with an empty corridor, the Canadian man having retreated to his locker room, no doubt to tell all to Jericho. Muttering to her dog, Lita left the makeshift office and began the descent through the cold, grey corridors once more. "You were supposed to bring back the gold, kid. No one said anything about this," the unmistakeable voice of Triple H rang through the corridors, alerting Lita to their presence long before they came into view.

"And I will. I have. It's just a different kind of gold," there was a distinct lack of confidence in the usually cocky 'Legend Killer's voice as he replied, and Lita stopped in her tracks, listening to what they had to say. "Come on, Trips – don't doubt me, here. I got this. I promise, this will be huge for Evolution." As they rounded the corner, Lita's hands shook. Was it fear? Anticipation? She couldn't be sure. If they had wanted her to be their manager, she had nothing to fear – right?

"And there she is," Hunter laughed, clapping his hands together. His words dripped with sarcasm, making Lita feel like a small child, mocked by the school bully. "Our new manager. Were you on your way to come find us and celebrate our win?" How could she work with this man? They despised each other. There was no way he had asked for her to be their manager. Not a chance. "Well?" He prodded, as her eyes flickered to Ric Flair, grinning like the cat who'd got the cream.

"I wasn't aware that it was procedure to celebrate three able-bodied men beating down an injured champion, actually. If anything, the fact that it took three of you should be something to be embarrassed about…." She shouldn't have opened her mouth, she should have walked away – what could they do, after all? It wasn't as though she was even employed in the company anymore and she wasn't about to accept Eric Bischoff's proposal now, that was for sure.

Batista bristled at her words and, though she hated to admit it, she flinched slightly. A man so large, so imposing… He could snap her neck like a twig if he saw fit and, really, she didn't know enough about him to say he wouldn't. "Now listen here, Red – "

Ric Flair smoothly interrupted Hunter, clapping a hand to his chest and stepping in, "Now, Champ, Lita's had a rough night. She's been dumped by Hardy, she's lost her job…It's been a tough night by anyone's standards – she doesn't know what she's saying," he said, fixing her with a look that told her to stay quiet, that he had this handled.

It was him, she thought. It had to be – he had brought her to Raw, once upon a time, the first female lottery pick. He had asked for her – no, he had demanded – for her to be their manager. It was the only way. But why? Lost in her realisation, she had no time to inform the four men that she knew exactly what she was saying and that, technically, Triple H had no championship and, therefore, that nickname was redundant. In fact, by the time she'd opened her mouth to respond, the clicking of Bischoff's dress shoes on the concrete flooring had drawn closer.

"Ah, you're all here. Wonderful. Now, ah, I think we'd prefer to do this in my office, no?" There was a nervous quality to him now, one that seemed to arrive every time Evolution was in his presence. He hurried forward, directing the traffic in the opposite direction from which Lita had come and feeling a hand push her towards the office she stiffened, rushing ahead to avoid being touched again, not wanting to know which of the four men had deigned to put a hand on her.

As soon as Ric closed the door behind them, Lita realised the gravity of the situation. Did she have a choice in the matter? If her only options were to manage Evolution or leave the WWE, it seemed like there wasn't much choice at all. Both ideas were equally repugnant. They were evil – they'd hurt so many of her friends over the past few months and, seemingly, without any remorse. How could people behave like that? And yet there was that nagging voice once more, that curious voice which wondered 'what if'? "Why?" she asked, ignoring Randy who had made himself at home on Bischoff's sofa and was regarding her lazily from his seat, and Batista who had perched himself on the arm of the sofa, paying more attention to the photos on the wall than he did to her. "Why me?"

"It's only natural," Ric replied, his voice calm and smooth. "Look at you – you're the top of your game. Just back from that neck injury and already a force to be reckoned with."

It was bullshit. Mindless flattery which would get him nowhere, and Lita interrupted before he could continue. "I had my ass handed to me last week with Terri, I lost last night and I was humiliated in the middle of the ring tonight – what part of that is top of my game because I'd really like to know."

"You have a potential that most divas never will. They could never have that – that 'je ne sai quoi' that you do. But we see that, don't we boys?" Hunter, for his sins, did little to pretend that he cared about anything she possessed, but Orton and Batista nodded eagerly, answering to Ric like lap dogs. "You're the best. And you could still be better, if you join us. We could make things so much easier for you. You want a rematch for that title? You got it. You want Hardy dealt with? Just say the word. You could have everything you ever wanted, and all you have to do is agree to manage us."

God, he was good, she thought, eyes boring into the older man's. It was as much as she'd expected, all the promises he would make, and yet actually hearing them, it made them so much more real. "And what would I have to do?" she asked, the words leaving her lips before she'd realised, and Ric grinned in response.

"Like I said – you become one of us. You come to the ring with us, you participate in what we do, and if that means taking the occasional shot, then so be it," he replied, voice simple as though he'd asked her to pass the salt. "But in return, we'll have your back. There'll always be one of us to make sure you're safe, that you get what you need and that you're treated like the best."

Her stomach felt uneasy, her mouth dry as she sighed. They really did make it sound so appealing; everything she wanted, everything she'd worked hard for, just handed over to her, protection from people like Hardy and Molly…hell, even Bischoff wouldn't be able to touch her. And yet the images of Trish Stratus, of Lilian Garcia, of Christian and all her other friends came to mind, each looking as disappointed as the last. They wouldn't like it. They would hate her. Everyone hated Evolution; they stood alone and they didn't need anyone else. As a fan favourite, a popular girl backstage, she couldn't do that to herself. She would lose her friends for sure and she wasn't sure that she was ready to resign herself to such a lonely life, with no one for company but the four men who had attacked half the locker room. "How long do I have to decide?"

With a glance at his watch, it was Eric Bischoff who spoke. "About sixty seconds. The clock's ticking, Lita. Now, do you want your job back or not?"

"What about Christian?"

"What about him?"

"When we came here it was to ask for my job back – he was going to use his favour."

Eric laughed, his shoulders raising in a shrug as he replied, "See that's the thing with favours – there's no binding contract. I'm not legally obliged to grant it. And so, I see no other option. It's Evolution…or nothing."

And so, she was right – there was no other option, she would be choosing one hell over the other – yet his words had sparked something in her. "I want a legally binding contract," she said, jaw tilted defiantly. "Before I agree to anything, I want all of us to sign a contract. One that…one that means you can't do anything to me." She said, jabbing a finger in Hunter's direction. "And that he can't hit on me or…" Randy was the object of her distrust on that occasion, and the youngest member of the faction yawned, muttering that 'she should be so lucky'. "Or that you can't hang me out to dry. You can't leave me out there alone or – or let anyone hurt me. A match is a match but if I'm ambushed or hurt… You have to step in, just like you would for any of the others." The words were rolling off her tongue with ease as she listed her demands, demands she hadn't even known to think of seconds before. "You can't hurt me and you can't let others." She finalised. If she was going to sell her soul to the devil, she was at least going to get some sort of benefits from it.

"Let's get one thing straight, Lita, you don't get to make stipulations here," Hunter said, his voice low and dangerous as he stepped closer and Lita moved away, McKenzie bristling as he came in contact with Batista's knee; not quite enough to hurt him. Fussing with her dog, she ignored his words; there was no need to pay him any attention, not when Ric stepped in once more.

"You know, Champ, I think a contract is a good idea," he said, almost everyone in the room's eyebrows raising. "That way she gets what she wants and we get to keep her in check; make our own demands. Nothing too much," he added, turning to Lita with a nod. "Just that you would have to accompany at least one of us to the ring, that you would really be one of us and that you wouldn't shirk out of helping us out, if needs be. You would owe us as much as we owe you. It's just best to get that all on paper. We could have Hunt's lawyer draw it up and be ready to sign by Monday.

Lita's eyes scanned the room – Orton and Batista were watching her, eager to see her reaction, while Bischoff looked on fearfully. Hunter stepped forward once more, offering his hand. "So, what do you say? Are you in?"

They would hate her. Her family, her friends, her fans.

But what other choice did she have?

"I'm in." She replied, her heart racing as she shook his hand, ignoring the relieved sigh which left Bischoff or the fact that Orton was telling Batista to 'pay up' over the bet they'd made – no doubt that she would or wouldn't join.

"Meet us at the Hilton hotel at six pm on Monday. There'll be a room booked under your name," Hunter replied, his voice brisk and business-like as he motioned to the rest of his faction to leave. One by one they filed out, Ric first, followed by Batista and Orton, who assured her she'd made the right choice. "And one last thing - next week? Try not to look like you just rolled in off the street…"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you again to everyone who's read this so far - I understand there aren't many of you but considering the story is set over thirteen years ago, it's more than I had imagined, so thank you, thank you, thank you! Every read, and every review of course, really does mean the world to me! After this chapter, the content is entirely new and no longer part of the rewrite I had in mind of my old fanfiction. I've decided to take it in an entirely different (and hopefully better) direction. Now, here's where business picks up.

 

Everything about the room screamed wealth, from the thick Egyptian cotton sheets that she couldn't stop running her hands over to the room service menu boasting quail and lobster. She'd felt like a fraud as she'd checked into the five star hotel, muttering her name at the reception desk and looking over her shoulder multiple times, certain that someone would see her checking in and realise what she was doing – what they were all doing. What _was_ she doing? It was a question which had plagued the redhead for the past seven days, her mind working overtime as she tried to rationalise and justify the decision she had made; the cons of joining Evolution outweighed the pros – and she had listed them multiple times, just to check. For every bonus, such as getting her job back and a chance to get her own back on Matt, came at least two drawbacks; everyone would hate her, Trish would never forgive her for teaming with such misogynists, she would be alone, she would be subject to all sorts of abuse and attacks, she would practically live with a target on her back… It simply wasn't worth it.

Yet here she was, sitting alone in her hotel room, staring at the cell phone in her hand, watching as the minutes counted down on the screen. In precisely three minutes she would be expected in the parking lot where, a very blunt text from Hunter had told her, a limousine would be waiting for them to escort them to the arena. In precisely three minutes, she would be expected to formally accept her position as a member of Evolution.

Having spent the past seven days alone, Lita had welcomed solitude, keeping her phone switched off almost all week and refusing to answer her emails. Trish and Christian had tried to contact her multiple times, as had Lilian and Rob. Even Chris Jericho had tried, apologising for what he had caused. It _was_ his fault, she'd thought for a second, encouraging Matt on the Highlight Reel. But that thought had quickly left her. It was no one's fault. Only Matt's. She hadn't thought much about him, if truth be told; her mind had been far too occupied by her decision to join Evolution. Was it a decision? She wondered, flipping the phone over in her hands. She hadn't had much of a choice, really. Perhaps Trish would see that…Perhaps she'd understand.

A low, scathing sound escaped her at the very thought and she shook her head. She knew better than anyone that Trish wouldn't understand – she wasn't like Lita. Trish had other interests, other things in her life. But not Lita. All she had was wrestling… Glancing back at the phone, she sighed, the screen illuminating to read one minute past six. She was late.

They can't make me go, she thought, starting slightly as her phone began to vibrate, Hunter's name appearing on the screen. It had been a common theme of the week – every time she would convince herself she was doing the right thing, something else would come to mind, reminding her of her morals, her friends, her _dignity_ , all of which she had convinced herself she would need to give up to join Evolution. Yet it was also the same on the opposite end of the spectrum; each time she'd she give up completely and accept her role as an unemployed wrestler, she'd be reminded of the promises Ric had made her. _You could have everything you ever wanted._ And what did she want? To be a wrestler – to be the best wrestler she could be. And they could give her that.

The thudding which shook her hotel room door snapped her from her contemplation, and she sighed. Of course they wouldn't just forget about her or leave without her. No doubt they'd orchestrated everything to a tee, every movement made planned out within the second and, already, she was holding them up. Getting to her feet, she smoothed down her top and took a deep breath before crossing the room and unchaining the door.

"What are you playing at?" Hunter demanded, the door barely open enough to give her a view of all four men waiting outside. "Six o'clock, I told you. What time do you call this?"

Opening the door wider to allow them entry, Lita shrugged her shoulders – any smart replies she wanted to give hung on her lips as the diva gave in. She'd made her choice seven days ago. She'd made her bed and now she had to lie in it. "I was just getting my stuff," she lied, motioning to her duffel bag which lay open on the floor. "I couldn't find my wrestling gear."

If Hunter was going to argue – and it looked like he was – he was cut off by the youngest member of the group who, swaggering forward, grabbed her bag, zipping it up and throwing it over his shoulder. "I've got it, Hunt. We can go now," he said, already heading for the door, Batista hot on his heels. Neither of them wanted to get into an argument, it seemed, and Lita smiled. Batista had only been back a handful of weeks and already he knew how to avoid conflict with Hunter. Maybe she would learn to deal with him, one day…

"Going forward," Hunter said, barring her exit from the room with one arm. His voice was low, quiet and dripping with anger. "If I set you a deadline or a timescale, you stick to it. If I say jump, you say 'how high?'. Got it?" Standing so close she could smell the spearmint gum on his breath, Hunter arched an eyebrow and Lita, her eyes flickering to Ric, who avoided eye contact, and Randy who stood in the doorway looking embarrassed, nodded her head.

"So that's it, huh? I answer to you, now?" Her words came out less confrontational than she'd intended, her voice meek and mild, barely more than a whisper.

"If you want to keep your job."

And she did. God damn it, she did.

* * *

The elevator ride down to the parking lot was painfully quiet, the mechanical cranks of the elevator the only noise to be heard. Hunter seemed to physically radiate anger, his authority being questioned having set him off early, for the evening. Was this something she would have to deal with regularly? She wondered, taking a few seconds to look around the elevator. Besides Hunter, the rest of the occupants seemed calm and composed, as though this was entirely commonplace; who was it that usually pissed him off? Not Orton, that was for sure, the way he scurried along, trying to keep the peace. Nor Batista who, Lita imagined, could probably snap Hunter like a twig. And definitely not Ric. Ric did nothing to anger Hunter, even if it meant selling out other members of their faction…

As the elevator came to a stop, a dignified ' _ping´_ rang through the compacted space before the doors opened, spitting them out onto asphalt and concrete. In front of the elevator was a limousine, the sort she had watched Evolution appear at the arenas in week after week and, though she hated to admit it, there was a bounce in her step as she moved towards it; she had never ridden in a limo before. Leaning across to open the door, a large, tattooed arm cut across her, unlatching the door and pulling it open. For a moment, she thought she'd broken some sort of etiquette, some unwritten rule that meant there was a rota for who entered the limo first but, instead, she was met with a small motion of Orton's head, a tiny inclination that said 'on you go'. _Oh_ , she thought, sliding into the back of the spacious car, the material of her trousers gliding across the expensive leather. _At least one of them has manners…_

But any complimentary thoughts she had toward her new wrestling 'family' were quickly forgotten as the four men filed into the car, the novelty and luxury of the ride quickly wearing off. As the car pulled out of the parking lot, Lita's stomach lurched, though she didn't think it had anything to do with motion sickness. "I've got your contract in the car, Lita. Had it sent over last night," Ric informed her, adopting that airy, conversational tone which had confused her the week before. "You can look over it when we get to the arena – you'll have plenty time. We've already signed it."

"So you four agreed to my terms?" she asked, eyebrow arching in doubt. "You four all agreed to look after me? To _protect_ me? To give me what I want? And all I have to do is accompany you guys to the ring and act like a good little member of Evolution?" It was too good to be true; she would definitely need to read this contract at the arena.

"Told you she wouldn't believe you," Randy replied, rolling his eyes. She hadn't forgotten, of course, that he'd bet on her the previous week – he had known she would join and known she would argue… Leaning forward to get a good look at the diva, he laughed. "If you hold up your end of the bargain, we'll hold up ours. But, uh, the lawyer forgot the 'Orton can't hit on me' clause…"

"Sexual harassment of any kind is forbidden," Ric corrected, shaking his head at Randy with a nervous chuckle. "Don't worry, the kid was only messing around. Weren't you, Randy?"

A muttered 'of course I was' saw Randy sit back in his seat, falling quiet once more. "And after I sign it…that's it? I'm one of you guys?"

"That's right, princess. One of us, " Ric grinned, Lita's stomach sinking once more. "No going back, now."

"You don't have to sign," Hunter replied, looking entirely bored of the conversation. "You can throw it back in our faces, lose your job and leave Hardy to run around the WWE telling everyone how he cost you your job. If you want, that is."

Taking a deep breath, Lita forced a smile onto her face, hands clutched tight together to prevent them from shaking. "No, no. One of you. No going back."

* * *

The Evolution locker room was, to say the least, very different compared to any Lita had ever stepped foot in. Where, usually, stood a bench, a locker or two and a handful of fold away chairs – and all to accommodate six or seven people – was two black, leather sofas, a mini bar, a television and a safe. It looked more like the back room of a social club rather than a locker room. "Take a seat," Ric said, entering the room behind her and throwing his suit jacket over one of the sofas. Handing over the contract which he'd promised her, the eldest member of the group took a seat himself, watching her eagerly as she read over the terms and conditions.

If the other guys in the room were intrigued by her, they made no outward signs of it, Hunter and Randy reading the match card and muttering quietly to each other while Batista made himself at home. "What's the catch?" she asked, after giving the contract due consideration.

"There's no catch. You made your stipulations, we made ours," Ric replied, that same, calm demeanour present.

"Your stipulations seem to suit me more than anything else. It doesn't make sense. I mean, one of these stipulations is, literally, that I insert myself into 'any and all challenges for the WWE Women's Championship'. I mean, how does that benefit you?"

"We're the best in the business. What does the best have? Gold," he said simply.

"And you'll really stick to this?" A small nod from the sixteen-time champion answered her question. "Then where do I sign?"

As Lita scrawled her signature on the proverbial dotted line, Ric conferred with the other men, clapping his hands together in delight before turning back to the newest member. "How would you like us to deal with your little Hardy problem?" Lita frowned. Ruining Matt Hardy had been one of the deciding factors in her decision to join the faction but now that it was an option – now that it was real – she couldn't believe she was agreeing to it. "We have to show you off, you know – make an entrance. And what better way to do it than this." Ric pushed the card forward and pointed to the second last match – 'Christian vs Matt Hardy'. Lita swallowed, knowing that Christian had probably begged for the match, maybe even used his favour to get it. "The boys'll get in early and teach Hardy a little lesson…"

Watching the smile which crossed both Orton and Batista's faces made her uneasy; they would take joy in this, in ripping Matt Hardy limb from limb. And why? Because she wanted them to? Having such power was a little too much for the redhead and she felt dizzy as she handed the contract back to Ric. "But Christian – you'll leave him out of this, right?" directing her question at the two men who would be dealing the blows, Lita prayed they cared enough about the contract to honour her wishes.

"If he stays out of the way, he has nothing to worry about. Otherwise…" Randy shrugged, Batista cracking his knuckles menacingly. Great, she thought, just as I expected.

* * *

It was hard to sit back and watch as Trish was ambushed and double teamed by Molly and Victoria, and Lita could barely watch. She had begged and complained, demanding she be allowed to leave, to save her friends, but her arguments had fallen on the deaf ears of Batista and Orton, who had been left in the room with her. "Lita, stop!" Randy groaned loudly, sick of the whining noise coming from the redhead beside him. "You're not going out that door and that's it! Hunter said you're to stay in here all night. Well, until Hardy's match. Then you come down with us…" Randy paused, popping one of the cashew nuts he had bought from the vender into his mouth. "Now shut the hell up while we watch this." As much as he enjoyed the prospect of Lita being a member of Evolution, he was not enjoying the incessant complaining.

"This is why no one likes you…"

"No one likes us because we win, Lita. Now I wont tell you again – shut the hell up."

The redhead glared at the younger man who's eyes remained glued to the television ahead. "No. They hate you because you're assholes. Lying, cheating assholes who don't deserve to be a part of this company."

"And you're one of us now. So what does that make you?"

* * *

For most of the night, Lita was silent, answering only when Hunter demanded it and the diva kept her head down when Ric defeated Chris Jericho thanks to Batista's interference. But now, as Waterproof Blonde's 'Just Close Your Eyes' resonated through the arena, the redhead was filled with questions. Would they hurt Christian? What would they do to Matt? Should she go down with them to start with? Should she get involved? "Change of plans," Ric announced as they left the Evolution locker room, Batista already having checked that the coast was clear. A loud cry of 'Oh yeah' told the redhead that Matt Hardy was on his way down to the ring. "Orton and Batista will go down without you. When things get serious, you go down there. Make it look like you're gonna stop the boys. And then…its your prerogative." Lita nodded, swallowing hard. "But if Randy tells you to get out the ring – you get out the ring. If he tells you to get a sledgehammer – you get the sledgehammer. You answer to him when you're down there. Got it?" Lita nodded bitterly, unhappy at having to 'answer' to the third generation superstar. Randy, however grinned, adjusting the waistband of his wrestling shorts. "When we go back down – for the handicap match against Goldberg – I'll be at ringside for the boys. You and Hunt stay back here. Then, when Goldberg's well and truly down – we cant risk your big entrance being ruined by him attacking you – we'll announce the new member of Evolution." The white-blonde man grinned with pride at the faction before first turning to Randy, then Dave. "I'd say its time to go boys…"

The redhead watched with wide-eyed fear as Randy and Dave made their way to the ring, the larger man hauling Christian away from Matt almost effortlessly before Randy 'took care of' the North Carolina native. It was almost with a feeling of excitement – which later made her feel quite sick – that she watched The Legend Killer's fists draw blood and her stomach turned rapidly as the third generation superstar left Matt to Dave as he exited the ring. For a second, she thought he was leaving the ring permanently until the tall male began rifling underneath the ring. She knew what he was planning on doing, knew that this was the time she should make her entrance. She waited until Randy had slid back into the ring, steel chair in hand, before signalling to the sound-technician to hit Evolution's ring song. By the time it started, Dave had positioned the semi-conscious wrestler on his shoulders and the steel chair was placed in front of him.

Fans turned to watch the titantron as Motorhead's 'Line In The Sand' played, yet there was no sign of Hunter nor of Ric. Even Randy forgot his position as Dave's cheerleader and turned to stare. Nothing. He was beginning to think that the redhead had chickened out when she appeared at the top of the ramp. She ran and many fans assumed she was trying to prevent Matt from taking such a beating – even if he had hurt her the week before. But, as she pushed her way through the ropes, Dave threw him onto the chair with a sickening crunch and a thud, Matt Hardy flopping lifeless onto the canvas. There was many things Lita could have done at this point – many of the fans expected her to shield Hardy, Dave half expected her to kick the southern bastard but, surprising most, she reached out and took Dave's hand, then Randy's and raised them high in the air. Rather than the fan reaction she expected, the arena fell silent and, through the silence, they made their way up the ramp.

Ric grinned and clamped one arm around Lita's shoulders. "You did it, Lita. You did it. You're one of us, now." And then she threw up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you to those who reviewed between the last chapter and this one - it really does mean so much to me! Thank you to everyone who's reading this - I know it's set quite a few years back but all I can say is, if you have stumbled on this story without seeing the Evolution days, download your free trial of the WWE Network, do yourselves a massive favour and watch this 'Era'. You won't regret it. Once again, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I do writing it.

"Do you want some water?" Randy Orton's voice carried through the bathroom door and Lita's stomach lurched once more, the redhead gripping the toilet bowl as she retched. Everything about this scenario was so wrong, from the man on the other side of the door to the red, bloody finger prints she was leaving on the porcelain. She had thought that getting her own back on Matt would feel better than this, that it wouldn't result in her losing the pitiful contents of her stomach. Instead, the metallic stench of blood clung to her as she wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, inadvertently smearing red across her cheek. "You've got a match coming up and, uh," the handle of the door rattled as Randy tired of waiting and, pressing down, it gave easily, allowing him access. "Shit…"

Sitting on the floor of Evolution's private bathroom, Matt Hardy's blood staining her hands and cheek, and reeking of vomit, Randy had never seen the former Women's Champion look so vulnerable and, crossing the bathroom in two long strides, he paused, hovering by her side. "What do you want?" she said, staring at her hands. His own had been cleaned, she noted, when he pushed a bottle of water towards her.

"Ric says you've been in here since we got back. Booker and Henry's match is over – they got 'Street Fight' on the wheel," he replied, not knowing what else to say. Clearing his throat, he shifted his weight from one foot to another, waiting for her to speak, to say anything, really. Even if it was an insult.

"You can go now," Lita groaned, fidgeting with the water bottle, though she made no attempt to drink from it. "I'll still go to my match. You don't ned to worry about Evolution holding up their side of the bargain or whatever it is. Just leave." It wasn't his fault, she knew – if anything, he'd done exactly what she'd wanted – but he was near, and she needed him to leave. It was easier when she'd been alone, able to choke down her hate filled thoughts as her body rejected everything else.

"It's a steel cage match. Bischoff announced you'd been rehired after we came back to the locker room. Then announced you'd be wrestling – you and Victoria," he replied, before turning to leave. Good, she thought, _the further away that slimy bastard is away from me the better. Him_ _and_ _the other three_. And yet, they'd help up their part of the bargain – they'd dealt with Matt. For her. She'd caused this… A choked sob escaped her and mere seconds, she felt a dark shadow cast over her as Randy returned to his previous position in front of her, crouching down to eye level.

"You'll be fine," he said, in what she assumed was supposed to be a reassuring tone of voice. Instead, he sounded confused, even a little unnerved. "You've faced Victoria before, right?" _Of course that's what he thinks this is about_ , Lita thought, scoffing. Her cheeks were wet with tears, but she nodded; there was no point in making him more uncomfortable, even if the very thought of being in this situation made her skin crawl, never mind thinking about making Randy Orton more comfortable. "Then what are you crying for? You got this. You're one of Evolution now, remember?"

Sniffing, she nodded again. _He really believes it_ , she thought, _really believes that Evolution was the solution to every problem_. It was easy to think like that when you'd never felt the way she did. She couldn't imagine he'd ever been in this position, so low, so alone; she couldn't imagine him – or any of Evolution, for that matter – sitting on the toilet floor crying. Unscrewing the water bottle, she moved to take a sip, the bottle colliding against Randy's hand, which had halted in mid-air, dangerously close to her face. "You've got blood," he explained, pointing at her cheek before hastily pushing to his feet. "Just – wash your face and get changed into your ring gear, yeah? Batista's got an interview but, after that, he'll walk you to the ring for your match." And with that, he was gone, leaving the Diva alone in the bathroom once more.

* * *

Her skin was ashen and the dark circles below her eyes stood prominent against it but, other than a roll of the eyes from Hunter, her appearance went unmentioned. Batista, silent as usual, had walked her to gorilla, hovering by the curtain when her music hit. "You don't have to come, you know? I'll be in a cage, for Christ's sake, and after what you and Orton did to Matt, I doubt he'll be making another appearance," she explained, giving him a small shrug before heading through the curtain. The second she stepped out onto the ramp, all fear and hurt seemed to leave her. She was happiest and most comfortable in front of her fans and, thanks to Evolution, she would be here a while longer, yet. Glancing behind her, she half expected to see Batista ignoring her wishes yet was met with nothing but bright lights and metal ramp. A grin tugged at her cheeks and the red head threw herself down towards the ring, slapping fans' hands and waving at any signs sporting her name. She had a duty to these fans; she had to show them she was here to stay.

As Lita's ring music rang out, Dave Batista hung back by the curtain, watching and waiting for any sort of risk or problem to arise. Victoria slipped past, eyeing him disdainfully. A look of distrust was evident, yet it was a look he had long since grown used to and, rolling his shoulders, he smirked at her in response, watching as she shuddered. Once the dark-haired Diva had made her way to the ring, however, Dave chanced another peek out of the curtain, the steel cage which hung above the ring beginning its descent. Lita was right, of course; what real damage could come to her in the steel cage? Damage he could prevent, anyway. She and Victoria would be quite the match up and, really, it would be a hell of a fight, the sort you'd want to watch from the comfort of your locker room, not hovering around at the curtain, barely able to see what was going on. Once Earl Hebner had closed the cage door fully, Dave turned on his heel – if he moved fast enough, he could be back at the locker room before any of the real wrestling began.

Slipping through the corridors, he was soundless as he thought over the rest of the evening; he had been dubious about Lita, initially, and even more so when she'd locked herself away earlier that night. God knows what Orton must have said to her to get her out of that bathroom… But Dave's reverie was ended by the sound of wrestling boots slapping against the ground, growing faster as they neared. Instantly, Dave snapped to attention, head whipping one way and the next as he searched for Michaels of Goldberg. He hadn't expected the owner of the footsteps to be Randy, however, who raced past him, barely giving a second glance his way. "What's up? Where are you going?" Dave hollered, stopped in his tracks for just a second.

His answer came not from Randy, but Hunter, who appeared behind the younger man, moving at a leisurely pace though there was nothing leisurely about the look on his face or the sledgehammer he clutched in one hand. "Hardy."

* * *

Matt Hardy was, more than anything else, a very stupid man. Sure, in theory he was 'smarter' than Jeff. But this didn't make him intelligent. An intelligent man would have known that, after the beating he'd been delivered earlier that evening, smashing a steel cage into Lita's face, Evolution would come gunning for you. But not Matt. Matt stood at the top of the ramp, gloating as he smirked down at Lita who, still behind the cage, was yet to get back to her feet. Victoria stood by the cage, Earl Hebner holding her hand up in victory but the dark-haired Diva looked fearful, glancing back into the ring every few seconds. Yes, she disliked the woman in the ring but at the same time… Dropping Earl's hand, Victoria clambered back into the ring, through the metal door and reached down to help Lita up.

As the redhead reached towards her competitor, her hand closing around the other woman's, Randy Orton's fist connected with Matt Hardy's face, the smaller man falling to the ground instantly. Victoria held on to Lita's hand although she was no longer staring at the slightly smaller diva; her eyes were trained on Orton and Hardy as Evolutions 'Legend Killer' and The Nature Boy pummelled into the North Carolina native. Victoria couldn't help but find irony in the fact that the fans were cheering Evolution's attack and continued to stare blindly at the scene unfolding in front of her. She pulled Lita to her feet with all her might and, for a second, the two stood staring, mouth open, at the scene unfolding in front of them.

Neither woman moved.

That was until Hunter and Dave arrived, the blond still carrying his sledgehammer, a glimmer of brass knuckles playing on The Animal's hand. Lita sprinted, almost falling through the ropes in her haste as she tried to make it up the ramp. She was dizzy, her vision blurred and the ringing sound in her ears was convincing her that she was suffering a bad case of tinnitus but she knew for a fact that she couldn't let this happen. "Stop!" she screamed, but no one seemed to hear her. She watched as Batista hauled her ex-boyfriend onto his knees, lining him up for whatever brutal shot Hunter or Randy was willing to throw his way. As Randy's hand drew back, Lita became level and reached out, grabbing at the hand which, had she been a second later, would have easily broken Matt's nose. She caught onto his wrist and held as tightly as she could, scared that if she let go it would be the end of Matt.

"What are you doing, Lita?" Randy growled, causing Lita to stare up at him, confused. She thought that it was perfectly obvious what she was doing – she was stopping him attacking Matt Hardy. "Look what he did to you…"

"Please…Stop…" There was something about Matt – something she couldn't put her finger on – but she had always felt the overwhelming urge to protect him. Even now, after he had tried to knock her unconscious, after he had lost her job, after everything. "Please…" The muscles in the arm she was holding seemed to soften, Randy's arm starting to lag as he lowered it.

"Out of my way," Hunter barked, smashing the sledgehammer into Matt's face, blood spurting in all directions as, once more, the North Carolina native fell to the ground.

* * *

The rest of the evening seemed to pass in a blur, Lita remaining in the Evolution locker room in silence while the others passed in and out for their matches. But, by the end of the night, there was no shift to the mood and Hunter paced the room like a caged animal, vein in his neck throbbing as he bellowed in rage. ""What was that all about, Orton? Hmm?" So far, he had kicked over three bins on the way back to the locker room, threw a plant across said locker room and was now staring menacingly at his young prodigy, tempted to hit him with the glass water bottle in his hand. "You went fucking soft!"

"I couldn't do it," Randy replied, his voice barely audible as he stared into his hands, turning the brass knucks Batista had brought with him over repeatedly. "She was begging me not to…She…She's one of us Hunt – I couldn't do that to her."

"EXACTLY!" Hunter exploded and Ric and Dave, too, stared at him. "She's one of us. That's my point exactly. When he attacked her, he attacked us, Randy. This is all about pride, kid. Fuck what the broad wants."

"So it wasn't about her getting hurt?"

"It was about us being attacked." Randy raised an eyebrow – he wanted to question his mentor's motives but there was a tiny nagging voice (which, funnily enough, sounded a lot like Hunter's) telling him that it was unwise to question it. Triple H had always said that Evolution was all about looking after each other but, clearly, it wasn't. "Look, Randy," he tried to reason – it was wise to keep all members of the faction on your side at all times – with the younger man. "I know you wanna play the knight in shining armour but she's totally blinded by him. We did the right thing sorting him out. He attacked her, Randy. He hurt her. She's one of us, we were being attacked. We had to retaliate. We can't afford to go all weak because of some broad…"

Randy nodded as reassuringly as he could. What had he been thinking anyway? This wasn't some stupid game – this was about their careers! They couldn't show weakness of any sort; not with Hardy and, certainly, not with Lita. The St. Louis native got to his feet and began to roll his shoulders, if anything, just for something to do. He'd been stupid, tonight, and he needed to get his mind back in the game and stop worrying about Lita and that stupid Hardy. Drawing himself up to full height, Randy grabbed his suit jacket. "Let's just get the fuck out of here. I need a drink."

* * *

Sitting in the limo on the way back to the hotel, Lita was glad of Hunter's anger, each time Randy or Dave spoke, suggesting somewhere to go and eat or drink to 'cool down' he would grunt, the younger members of the team shot down every time. She couldn't imagine being forced to socialise with them and, in all honesty, she wasn't certain she could keep any food or drink down. Her head throbbed where it had connected with the steel cage and the last thing she wanted was to have to sit with these four men, to act like what had happened that night was nothing. All she wanted was for someone – anyone other than Evolution – to reach out, to tell her it would be okay and that she'd done the right thing.

"Can I go see Trish?" she asked, her voice cracking as she spoke, cutting across Ric as he recounted some tale of twins in Atlanta.

"Lita, Lita, Lita," Ric said, his voice almost fatherly as he turned to face her – something which worried Lita. "When you're in Evolution, Evolution is everything. We're your friends, we're your family. And outside Evolution, you have nothing. Outsiders only bring you down. They get in your head, they convince you we're not there for you and they manipulate you. You don't need them Lita. You just need us. Us and us alone."

Lita didn't reply.

"All for one and one for all, Lita – that's how we think. You start relying on others outside the group, you break the circle of trust…We thought, when you agreed to this little set-up, that you understood that. If you didn't then perhaps you'll have to think of another way of keeping Hardy off your back because I can tell you right now, he's gonna be pretty pissed off after what you did to him tonight," Hunter spoke simply, his eyes glistening with malice as they bore into Lita's hazel ones.

"So that's a no?" She'd expected as much but a tiny part of her had hoped they would soften, that they would see what sort of state she was in…

"She probably doesn't wanna speak to you right now, anyway. We're not exactly on the best of terms with that lot," Randy replied, shrugging his shoulders. "And both times you appeared tonight, you ended up with me and Dave, here, so, uh, maybe best to just let that idea die in the water."

Lita sighed, leaning her head against the window. She had known this wouldn't be easy but tonight? She would have taken a hundred broken nights over this. "Okay," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I'll just go back to the hotel."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we have the hardest chapter I've had to write so far. Besides the tiny, tiny bit of ambush I've written in previous chapters, I've never written any form of wrestling so this was all very new to me, so here's hoping it reads well! I wanted to say thank you to everyone who read, reviewed or messaged me about this story since I posted the last chapter - you guys have been so kind and I've totally been overwhelmed by the fact that people actually enjoy this story. Fingers crossed you'll enjoy this chapter too!

It hadn't been the easiest of weeks for Lita who, since flying out of Salt Lake City on Tuesday morning, had spent most of her time in the shower or taking unnecessarily long walks with her dog, desperately seeking for a way to clear her head and forget some of the thoughts which had plagued her since Monday night. It had, in fact, taken until Thursday, when her elderly neighbour had brought over a casserole and a bone for McKenzie to shake her out of her funk. Just speaking to someone, someone who had no knowledge of her current situation and knew nothing of Evolution, had made her feel more at ease, more human. By the time Mrs Riggs finally left, waving jovially, and promising to bring over some pie next week, Lita felt almost strong.

Closing the door on her neighbour, Lita tied her hair back from her face before rolling up her sleeves. There were few moments of clarity she had experienced in her life, and none half so clear as this. Heading straight for the bedroom, she grabbed the trash can and the photo of her and Matt from her bedside table (the photo which, for the past two weeks, had lain face down), and dumped it unceremoniously into the bin, a smile crossing her face for the first time in days. Soon enough, his t-shirt followed it, as did a necklace and a book he'd bought her, and everything else which reminded her of him. Ridding her house of everything remotely related to Matt, Lita found herself laughing, almost maniacally, as she found joy in cleansing her home.

The last few days had taken their toll on the diva and, when she was finished binning all of Matt's things, her body wanted nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep, glad that she had taken the first step in returning to her old self. She did feel more like herself than she had done in weeks. Still, she knew she couldn't – she had one last step to take before she could take a break. Taking a seat on her sofa, Lita reached for the cell phone she had intentionally kept switched off since Monday night. Waiting for her phone to turn on, she placed it on the table, eyeing it suspiciously as she wondered what would await her. Was it even worth it? She wondered, rubbing at the back of her neck, and chewing on her lip. The screen illuminated and the phone began to vibrate as one message after another came through and, once it had stopped vibrating, she took a deep breath and took the phone in hand.

As per usual, her mother and brother had text her, menial things which she could easily ignore. Billy was in the running for a promotion he would never get, Lita had missed their aunt Lily's birthday and her mother had found a new recipe for sweet potato brownies. It had long been established that her mother did not watch wrestling – she didn't understand, really – yet the last message caused Lita to sigh and she closed it after reading, vowing to reply eventually, to ease her mother's mind. ' **What is Evolution and should I be worried?** ' was not a message she could answer easily and she wasn't certain she knew the answer. The final two senders, however, were messages she couldn't ignore. The first was Hunter, who's simple message informing her of the hotel they would be staying in on Monday was enough to cause Lita to scowl; just the thought of having to spend time with him was enough to threaten her almost-good mood. Thanking him as curtly as she could, she moved onto the next and final sender, her heart sinking as she opened a barrage of messages.

' **What the hell?! Where are you?!** '

' **You're rehired? Why didn't you tell me?** '

' **Lita?** '

' **?** '

' **Why are you ignoring me?** '

' **People are talking, Li. I've heard some weird stuff. Please tell me they've got it wrong.** '

As she read each message, Lita grew more ill at ease and the confidence she had possessed just moments before seemed to dissipate, her palms growing sweaty as she forced her fingers to move over the buttons. She had planned to explain everything, to give Trish the explanation she truly deserved yet no words seemed to do it justice. She could swear a thousand times that Trish would always be her best friend, that no matter who she was managing or working with, no one would ever replace her, but she didn't have the right words and nothing sounded right when she typed them out. Sighing, she deleted her pitiful attempts to explain, typing only the words ' **I'm sorry** ' before sending the message and tossing her cell phone in the bin with Matt Hardy's belongings.

* * *

Sitting in the back of the limousine, it was hard to believe that just seven days before she had signed a contract, agreeing to join Evolution. In those seven days, she had gone through so many emotions that it seemed a lifetime ago. When the passenger door opened, light flooding the empty limousine, Lita looked up, watching as her fellow Evolution member joined her. "Trying to make up for last week's bad time keeping?" Dave Batista asked, regarding her with a raised eyebrow. He slid seamlessly into a seat across from her.

"Something like that," Lita replied, not mentioning that she had been ready for over an hour or that she had interrupted the driver's meal when she had arrived fifteen minutes before. "How come you're early?" She didn't particularly care, she knew – and she suspected Dave knew it too – but if she had resigned herself to being one of them, she knew she had to be amicable and, by her deductions, Batista was the best place to start.

"I'm always early," he said. A man of few words, Lita wondered if it was at all possible for him to hold a lengthy conversation. The previous week had given her little to go on, of course, her catatonic state limiting her chance to chat to the 'Animal' of Evolution. Yet he was her best shot, she knew, to be friendly; she and Hunter had too much history to be friends, while her suspicions of Ric and his motives had left her uncomfortable around him and, even if he had come to check on her the previous week, she knew better than to let her guard down around Orton, who's womanising ways were near legendary backstage.

"I never said thank you last week," she tried, forcing herself to look at him. Well over six feet tall and dressed in a white wife beater and expensive looking slacks, Dave Batista took up more room than Lita thought humanly possible.

"Look," the word almost startled her as he moved the sunglasses he wore further down his nose to look at her. "If you want to sit here and chat like you're back in the women's locker room, you've come to the wrong guy, okay? You want that shit, wait for Orton. Otherwise, let's keep this brief, yeah?" And with that, he was done. Pushing the sunglasses back up his nose, he picked up a copy of Flex magazine from a small compartment filled with magazines and snacks and blocked her out.

The silence which followed was almost desirable, however, once Randy had joined them. Sliding into the car effortlessly, he claimed the seat beside Lita, who almost choked at the strong scent of expensive cologne and pressed herself closer against the window.

"Big night tonight, huh?" he grinned, clapping his hands together. "You guys spoke to Hunter yet?" Without waiting for an answer, he leaned across, helping himself to a packet of chips, which he offered to Lita once he'd opened them. Having been waved away, he shrugged, his attentions back at the topic at hand. "You and me have a match tonight. Teaming up with Kane, I mean it's against Goldberg, RVD and Michaels – it'll be a piece of cake." If Batista was listening, he made no obvious sign of it, yet Randy showed no sign of slowing down. "Hunter and Ric have the night off – except for the big announcement, but they won't be wrestling." Rounding on Lita, he grinned. "You, however, _will_ be wrestling." For a second, he sat watching her, popping chips in his mouth and smiling, waiting for her to ask who her opponent would be. "You and Trish. What a match…"

"What?!" she didn't want to show weakness, not in front of Orton and Batista, but it was too late, the words were out.

"Yeah," Orton replied, a shrug of his shoulders punctuating his nonchalance. "Hunter said Jericho used his favour to get the match for Trish so Bischoff couldn't back out." It was all she needed to hear and Lita could barely look him in the eye. Did Trish really hate her so much? Her hand came to rest behind her neck, where she rubbed softly. She couldn't wrestle Trish, not right now. She had to speak to her, to explain. "What are you worried about? You got this. You kick her ass, you move one step closer to being number one contender – maybe we can get Bischoff to squeeze in a match at Armageddon?" When Lita didn't respond right away, she felt, rather than saw, him shrug again. "Besides, I'll be at ringside anyway. Even the battlefield and make sure Jericho doesn't pull any tricks…"

She hadn't thought about that. She hadn't even included Jericho in the equation, thinking only of herself and Trish. He had used his favour for this. He had given up infinite possibilities so that Trish could get a chance to kick her ass…. Just the fact that Trish even wanted to, it was all too much. Swallowing hard, she nodded, the word 'thanks' escaping her lips as the door to the limo opened, Hunter and Ric joining the rest of their faction.

* * *

She wanted nothing more than to hide, then. After the limousine had pulled into the Ford Park Arena, she had cowered in her chair, not ready to accept that she had to head inside, that she had to face her best friend. She had told Hunter as much, asking if she could just stay in the car a little longer, until she stopped feeling sick. A headache, she'd blamed, though it was obvious he had taken no notice of her. "Come on," Orton had said, looking bored as he stood at the side of the limo, bent slightly to see the redhead. "You can throw a tantrum or lock yourself in a bathroom or whatever you need to do in that arena. But you need to get your ass out of that limo before Trips throws a fit." His voice was low, low enough that the other men who, standing just feet away, could not hear. "Just get in the arena, let him have his moment and then we can go back to the locker room and you can huff or throw darts at a Trish Stratus poster. I really don't give a fuck but seriously, you need to get out of the limo."

"Let me have a go, kid – "Ric said, his arm coming into view as he opened the door further. Perhaps it was the weariness in Randy's voice, something she hadn't quite heard in the short amount of time she'd been around him, or the fact that she didn't want to be alone with Ric, she shimmied along the seat, moving closer to leaving.

"No need, Ric. We got this," Randy grinned, winking at Lita as he held out a hand to help her from the limo. "Don't make this any harder than it needs to be, Lita. Come on." He said, once again, just out of earshot.

Batista rolled his eyes when the redhead appeared from the limo, but said nothing as he headed into the arena, followed by Ric, who let out a loud whoop as he strutted forward. Hunter, however, glowered, watching as Lita ignored Randy's attempt at chivalry and waiting until she had caught up with him. "I don't know what you're playing at. Quite frankly I don't care. But get one thing right, Lita – you do as I say or you have no job. You answer to me, got it?" The defiant tilt of her head was no answer for the former World Heavyweight Champion who opened his mouth to argue, when Randy put his hand on the older man's shoulder and shook his head. If the two had words, Lita had no idea of it as she walked faster, trying to catch up with Dave and Ric, though she couldn't imagine Randy would have the backbone.

* * *

The redhead was met with boos for the first time in her life that evening and, swallowing hard, was pushed almost roughly into the ring by Hunter who ushered Ric from the apron as he attempted to hold the ropes for the newest member of 'the family'. Randy Orton turned to glance at the diva before moving back to lean against the ring post, his arms stretched out either side of the turnbuckle. Dave stood nonchalantly by Ric's side, scanning the crowd while Hunter took the microphone forcefully from Lilian Garcia. "Last week, ladies and gentlemen," he rasped into the microphone, his eyes glaring towards the cameras. "You witnessed just how Evolution deal with our opposition." The man seemed to soften, for he was no longer glaring. In fact, if Lita wasn't mistaken, he had just extended his arm to her. Considering the argument which had occurred just five minutes ago, she questioned whether she should accept. "Come here, Princess." He said with his face contorted into what she assumed was a smile. Truth be told, Lita had never seen a smile on Hunter's face and, really, it was scary. "See, we're a team of elitists and, Lita here, is the Elite diva. But she had a problem; a problem we could solve. And that problem is Matt Hardy. Now that that problem is gone," Hunter motioned back towards Randy and Dave and, upon watching the recording later that evening, Lita was sickened to notice that she unintentionally smirked at this point. "Lita can rise up to her full potential once more. And what better way to do it, than as part of the Elite?"

It was all for show, of course; it wasn't like she had a choice in any of this. The contract was signed and the deal was done and dusted, but it wasn't like anyone other than those in the ring knew that. She knew she'd have to play the role, though, go along with his silly farce. Like Orton had said, there was no need to make it more difficult. His hand remained outstretched towards the diva who appeared to dither for a second. Her face showed confusion and, for a second, Hunter was certain she was going to back out, that he could get what he wanted -a chance to humiliate her before throwing her to the wolves. "I'm in," she said, a smirk which looked wholly out of place on her pretty features, her hand coming into contact with Hunter's which, surprisingly, was soft as he held her hand high in the air.

Her hands shook as she stood at gorilla, Randy by her side, stretching. For what it was worth, the men had all but left her alone after the little announcement in the ring and Randy had barely said two words to her as they made their way from the locker room. "You ready?" he asked, breaking the silence as the opening bars of Motorhead's 'Line in The Sand' echoed throughout the arena. Despite having entered the ring less than an hour before to the very same song, she was shocked to hear that her own ring song had been replaced and she frowned, rolling her shoulders before giving a small nod.

"Do not get involved in this, you got it?" she asked, just before they made it through the curtain. "This is between Trish and I. Not you. Not Evolution. Just us."

"Tell that to Jericho."

She tried to remain positive, to enter the ring the way she usually did and show the same level of enthusiasm she usually did, but it was difficult when she was receiving such an icy reception and when Randy Orton was following her down the ramp and into the ring.

By the time Trish and Jericho had joined them at ringside, Lita could barely hold it together. While the men vacated the ring, Lita held up her hands in defence. "Trish, please," she begged, trying to move closer. "Please, you have to hear me out." No words came from the blonde, however, who lunged at her, attempting to grab her in a headlock. As the two women grappled, Lita kicked her friend in the stomach, breaking the hold and creating some space between the two. "Trish – please, I'm begging you."

But her pleas were met with nothing but hostility and time after time, Trish came at her on the offensive. For a few moments, she did her best not to hurt Trish; she did only what she could to keep space in between them but after a while there was no denying she would get nowhere and every cheer and encouragement from Jericho at ringside left her skin crawling. Breaking another hold, Lita tried to shift away from the former Women's Champion, taking solace in her own side of the ring. Turning to face Randy, she shook her head, wanting an out. Despite having demanded he stay out of the match, she almost wished he would involve himself; she would never wish ill or harm on Trish yet she couldn't bring herself to wrestle her, couldn't do it by herself.

That was, of course, until she felt Trish's hands fist in her hair, dragging her backwards and causing her to cry out. As Trish began her assault, fists pummelling into every inch of Lita she could find, adrenaline seemed to kick in and Lita went from defending herself to throwing her former best friend off her. It was as though the past two weeks seemed to take over, a red mist clouding her thoughts as her own fists began to fly. It was difficult to stop once she started, every angry thought towards Matt Hardy and Eric Bischoff, Molly Holly and Hunter Helmsley came to the forefront of her mind and she couldn't help herself. She was only vaguely aware of the referee telling her to stop, of the bell ringing and of Trish being announced the winner of the match by disqualification. The only thing she _was_ aware of was the intense pain in her neck as Chris Jericho attacked her and then suddenly…nothing.

Rolling onto her back, she watched as Randy smashed Chris's face into the top turnbuckle, right fists connecting squarely in his face mere seconds later. It was easy to see that Evolution had been right, that she needed their help now and as Randy connected with a dropkick, sending Chris Jericho over the top rope, she pushed herself to her feet, Randy crossing the ring and joining her seconds later. "You good?" he asked, arm wrapping around her shoulders.

She wanted to shake him off and tell him she didn't want his help, yet there was a comfort in the warmth he brought and when he broke away, it was only to push down the second rope to help her from the ring. A stunned silence fell over her as they made their way up the ramp, a small part of her trying to ignore the boos which accompanied them; she had been disqualified, disqualified because she couldn't stop punching her best friend. She was an animal. Yet when Randy's hand pressed against her back, directing her through the curtain, she didn't feel all that angry. In fact, she felt almost relieved, like another weight had been lifted from her.

"You know, I didn't think you had it in you –" Randy began, breaking the moment.

Lita pulled away from his touch, glowering in his direction. "Shut up, Orton."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to be a Debby Downer, but I've been having a lot of doubt about this story. I knew from the beginning that it perhaps wouldn't work, given it's time frame and it's characters, some of whom might seem outdated or even unknown to some of the WWE fans now and I started to get a bit - stupidly - bothered by whether I should write something that appeals to more people. However, this story brings me far too much joy to write and I can't bring myself to work on anything else. So for that reason, I really do hope you enjoy this as much as I do. As always, please leave feedback.

Fear wasn't a new feeling for Lita; week after week she put her body on the line, adrenaline the only thing preventing fear from taking over and causing her to tumble from the turnbuckle or run from the ring, instead. But the fear which filled her as Bill Goldberg stalked towards her? That was entirely new. The World Heavyweight Champion had never been high on her Christmas card list, but his tag team partners had. Shawn Michaels was a good man, deep down, and Rob? Rob was her friend… Yet up here on the ramp, up by the announcer's desk where she'd run, she was entirely alone.

Back in the ring, Randy Orton lay flat out, head a crimson mess where Goldberg's title had burst him open, while Batista, covered in his own blood, fought valiantly as he tried to avoid the double team of Shawn and Rob Van Dam. She was supposed to run – that was what Randy had told her, get out as quickly as she could the moment things turned south. The first sign of danger, she was supposed to run. But she hadn't. She'd seen that Kane wasn't co-operating from the very beginning of the match and had practically predicted the chokeslam he delivered to Randy. But rather than run, she'd stood by, hovering by the apron, watching as the match dissolved into chaos. As the bell rang, signifying the end of the match, she'd tossed the World Heavyweight Title to Batista, certain that between him, an unsteady Orton and the belt they could get things done, just clear the ring enough for them to leave… But it had all gone wrong. Batista was a force of nature, there was no denying that, and once he was back on his feet, Randy really had given it his all, but it was barely more than a four-on-two brawl, especially when Kane managed to get the title belt in his hands.

But as things broke down, Kane targeting Randy while both Shawn and Rob took down the larger man, she'd still been unable to leave. Hopping up onto the ring apron, she'd been about to enter when she'd made eye contact with Goldberg and had, rather late, taken Randy's advice and run. Lita was quick, but Goldberg was quicker and, in just seconds, he'd caught up with her. His eyes wide and his mouth seemingly frothing in anger, Bill Goldberg was every bit the man possessed as he stepped nearer and nearer. Before the match, they'd warned her – Batista and Randy – that Goldberg was a wildcard, that while Shawn and Rob may not put their hands on her, he would have no qualms about it. She should have listened. "Please," she begged, her hands thrown up in defense. "Please, I didn't do anything."

And yet this was the norm for Evolution. It didn't matter if Hunter or Ric or Batista or Randy threw the punch, they all dealt with the consequences. Her eyes flickered back to the ring, knowing there was no one to help her. Looking back at Goldberg, however, she swallowed. Evolution had tormented him, abused him and even put a bounty on his head since Summerslam; she couldn't blame him for being mad. That sort of torture…It had to affect you and, eventually, you had to boil over and lash out. Gritting her teeth together, she fought the urge to run. She couldn't. Evolution had caused this mess and, whether she had wanted to be or not, she was one of them now. Standing her ground, she stopped her begging, straightening up a little as she prepared herself for what would happen next.

_Slap him_ , her mind screamed. _Slap that look off his face and show him you mean business. Do it._ Her hand shook by her side as he drew level, the bald man grinning as he darted towards her, laughing when she flinched, though he did nothing more, walking past her as though she weren't worth his time. It had all been about intimidation. And it had worked. Keeping her eye on the World Heavyweight Champion, she swallowed thickly. On the large screen above him, she winced as Batista was slammed into the barrier, the familiar feeling of guilt flooding her. Evolution had helped her multiple times in two weeks – Randy and Batista most of all – and she had to repay that somehow. Running back to the ring, her heart pounded in her chest. _Where's Hunter? Where is he?_ She wondered, blood rushing in her ear as she neared the ring. _He should be stopping this_. She had almost reached the ring when Randy pushed to his feet unsteadily, the diva dithering over where to head next. Batista was at an unfair advantage but Randy… The thought had barely crossed her mind when Randy was lifted from the mat by a right hook and sent a good six inches backwards, where he tumbled to the mat, the ring seemingly shaking as he landed. Kane stood above him, the maniacal laugh ringing throughout the arena once more as he bent down. Taking a grip of Randy's throat, he hauled him back to his feet once more. The red trickle of blood from his forehead ran across the third generation superstar's features until it marred his handsome face and Lita watched on in horror, unable to look away. He seemed floppy, almost like a doll in the seven foot monster's grip. The redhead's hands began to shake once more as she stared on in despair. Randy made a last ditch attempt to rid himself from Kane's grip but the assault from Kane had knocked him for six, leaving him disorientated and unbalanced. _WHERE IS HUNTER?_

And then it struck her. She looked around frantically, trying to find something. There was no way she could lift steel steps and she would never manage any real damage with the ring bell...She rushed to the apron, hauling it up and hunting for something, anything. If there was one thing about Kane it was that he took his time. He loved to see the fear build in his victim's eyes, to watch them squirm as they tried to get away from him. Her hand closed around the leg of a steel chair and she hauled it from under the ring, making her way between the ropes and across to where Kane stood. The blood was pumping in her ears and the shaking of her hands rattled the chair but if Hunter wasn't going to do something... The deafening _thwack_ as metal came in contact with muscle, flesh and bone terrified her but it gave her the desired effect. Randy was dropped, Kane's hand gripping at the back of his own neck as close as he could get to between his shoulder blades, where Lita had hit him. It wasn't hard enough, not by a long shot, but it gave them time.

In actual fact, it gave Batista time to free himself from Michaels and Van Dam as Kane turned to face the five foot six diva. She stood staring up at him, her mouth agape as her senses took over. Her stomach heaved but she made no attempt to move. A thin film of cold sweat covered her arms, her upper lip and the nape of her neck as Kane's lips curled, his hand reaching down to grip the steel chair still in her grasp. With one swift pull he removed it from her grasp and, looking down at the steel – which was now curved slightly from the impact it had made against him – began to laugh again. She tried to run but her body wouldn't let her. Her legs ached with the need to move, to escape from danger but she couldn't and as the steel chair came crashing down on her, Batista just out of reach of Kane, everything turned black.

* * *

The voices seemed to come from far away, muffled as though they came from the end of a long tunnel and the diva struggled to make out the words. Her head pounded and just trying to lift her neck a millimetre or two felt incredibly strenuous, sending jolts of pain coursing from the crown of her head all the way down her back. Her eyes felt heavy and even taking a breath seemed to hurt. The voices were getting closer now and she could make out two different voices. Both were male, though she was unable to decipher who they belonged to. She took a deep, racking breath which resulted in her choking, coughing a little, her ribs throbbing in protest at the exertion. The two voices fell silent though a third one pipped up, "Is she awake?" this voice was clearer than the other two, but she still struggled to put a name and face to it. "Should I get the doctor?"

One of the first voices spoke again and, this time, it seemed very clear, as though he were standing much closer than the other two, "You just press this red button, here, champ." Lita's eyes flickered as she did her best to open them, fighting against her heavy eyelids.

A fourth voice joined soon after; a female one, much more melodious than the other three she'd heard so far. "Is she awake?" she repeated. Lita responded with a small choking noise in the back of her throat. "Someone needs a drink..." The female voice seemed to drift away for a second until she felt her top half being raised, a loud cranking noise telling her that the mechanical bed was moving her into a sitting position. The cranking noise stopped and she felt a glass being pressed to her lips, the nurse doing her best to make her drink and causing the redhead to splutter as the liquid made it down her throat. "There we go..." Lita's eyes flickered again, this time managing to open though she closed them again almost instantly. The lights were white and clinical, much too bright for her tender eyes. She had only been asleep for...her train of thought was stopped in its tracks as she realised that she didn't know how long she had been asleep for. Opening her eyes once more she attempted to adjust to the lights of her room.

From her seated position on the bed, she spotted five faces staring back at her. By her side was a nurse, a tall woman in her forties with black hair showing premature greys, pulled back into a band. She had a warm smile and something about the way she observed the diva reassured Lita; she had been in her field for a long time, the diva was in good hands. At the bottom of her bed, dressed in dark grey suit pants and a slightly dishevelled white shirt, stood Ric Flair, both hands braced on the metal frame of the bed. Triple H stood by his side, his polo shirt and suit trousers looking pristine as ever, though his face told another story, while Randy took place over by the door. He had dark circles under his eyes and the gash on his forehead had fresh butterfly-stitches covering it. Dave, hiding behind his small dark glasses was seated in the only seat in the room which looked ready to give way under his weight.

The nurse busied around her, taking her pulse and recording the stats from the machine beside her which beeped loudly. "How're you feeling, sweetheart?" the nurse asked, staring into Lita's hazel eyes, taking the redheads 'observations'.

"Little tired...you?" when she spoke, her voice was much stronger than she'd expected. There was a slight crackle to it and it was heavy with sleep but it proved to her she hadn't been out of things for too long.

Ric laughed nervously but the other three remained silent as the nurse disappeared from the room, no doubt to get a doctor and tell him she was awake. "Its rude to sleep when you have visitors..." Ric laughed again moving from the end of her bed. Rolling his sleeves up he helped himself to a glass of water from the jug by her bed. "So...how're you really?"

Lita ignored the oldest member of Evolution to stare at the blond man a few feet away from her. "Where were you?" she asked, her voice cracking a little as her eyes bore into Hunter's.

"What?" Hunter's hands now gripped the metal frame and Lita noticed the bruises, the dents and cuts which adorned his knuckles. He looked tired and his dark circles were almost identical to Randy's.

"Where were you when Kane attacked Randy and Dave? Why didn't you help us?" Hunter rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. "You left us...You left me to get..." She paused. She wasn't quite sure what happened. Not after she hit Kane with the steel chair.

"Four days, Lita. In four days I have to wrestle that psychopath Kane AND Goldberg," Hunter sounded weary and the redhead noted he had been one of the original two voices she had heard. She also noted that that would make it Wednesday meaning she had slept – or rather been unconscious – right through Tuesday. "I have to wrestle those psycho bastards six days after I fought off Goldberg to get to the ring to help you and the guys, after your buddies Christian and Jericho ambushed us, after I got you out of a chokeslam, after I knocked six shades of blue out of Kane and still had to wrestle him in the main event with only Ric at ringside. So don't start questioning where I was because I was right there, right there..." Lita swallowed hard. He had saved her. She looked at Randy who nodded minutely, confirming his story.

"Sorry..." she said, her voice much weaker than it had been at first.

"Its fine now, ain't it champ?" Ric said, moving back to his side to clap a hand on his shoulder. "We're all awake now. All ready for Sunday..."

Lita's eyes widened. "Sunday?"

"Armageddon...?" Dave offered. "Maybe she has amnesia?"

"No...No I know it's Armageddon I just..."

"Didn't think you'd be there?" there was a slight snarl on Hunter's lip as it curled upwards. "You're one of us, Lita, which means you'll be there. I don't care if I have to smuggle you out of this hospital myself. You'll be there. No doubts about it."

The other three avoided her eyes as the room fell silent. So that's how it was... It wasn't about her safety or her health. It was about showing a united front. "Okay..." Her word hanging in the air, a doctor entered the room, shooing the men out before closing the door. "Can I leave now?" She asked almost instantly.

"Oh-ho-ho," the doctor laughed, as he pushed back her covers a little. "I don't know about that...You just woke up."

"I have to be in Orlando on Sunday..."

"We'll see." He spoke with a finality as he began to check over the bruises which adorned her body. There was a large gash above her eyebrow, where the chair had connected with her head and bruising on her cheek, her ribs, her back and her legs, from where Kane had thrown her – much like a doll – at the announce table while he 'dealt with' Dave, before returning to Lita and dealing the final blow which rendered her unconscious. The doctor was gentle as he leaned her forward to check the bruising on her back. "Your file says you suffered a broken neck not so long ago..." He did not wait for a response as he tested the movement of the divas neck, stopping when she hissed in pain. "Well your x-rays confirmed there's nothing broken but there is a great deal of bruising on your ribs. You also suffered a mild trauma to the spine – nothing long term – but we injected some corticosteroids near the trauma which should reduce swelling, we'll give you some of them in pill form too... But I'm afraid the best medicine for these types of injuries is bed rest..."

"But I can't..." The doctor eased her back into her sitting position, a soft pillow giving her neck and back cushioning. "I'm a wrestler we have a pay-per-view on-"

"I don't think so. You won't be wrestling for a while, I'm afraid. A month or two at the very least..." Lita swallowed. Clearly, this man did not know Triple H or Eric Bischoff. "Your neck was fragile as it was before you were hurtled off an announce table or smashed over the head with a steel chair...If you wrestle without being cleared by a doctor...There's a chance you won't be walking into your fortieth birthday party if you get where I'm going with this..." She did.

"And if I discharge myself?"

"Well there's nothing I can do if you discharge yourself but it really is highly unadvised. For your own safety..." The look of determination on the redhead's face shocked the doctor – it was the exact look the younger blond man had worn when the nurse had asked to check his knuckles. "But if you're going to check yourself out, please wait until tomorrow at least. We'd like to get your prescription checked first..."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who read, reviewed and messaged me about this fanfic! You really don't know how much all of your feedback means to me. With that being said, this chapter is almost twice the length of any other because I simply couldn't remove any of this from one chapter. I hope you love it, even the wrestling - I promise, I'm trying hard with the play-by-play stuff! Thanks again for reading!

Raising her hand to her face, Lita gingerly pressed her fingertips to her bruised cheek, wincing when it stung. No amount of make-up hid the now slightly yellowing bruises which adorned her cheek and there was absolutely nothing to be done to her forehead – she was going to have to attend Armageddon looking a hot mess, like a proper brawler. There was nothing classy about the bruises on her face... The redhead allowed a sigh to escape her lips at the thought – the past three days had been long and tiring, spent between her hospital bed, the airport and, her current location, the Hilton Hotel and all she wanted to do was sleep, not get ready for her first pay-per-view as an out-and-out bastard.

The hospital had put up quite the fight in terms of discharging the diva, only allowing her to leave on Friday evening when Ric was the only Evolution member to greet her, the other three having already flown to Orlando to prepare for their matches. The flight she shared with the sixteen-time champion, however, was less than pleasant. She had begged him to let her go home before the pay-per-view, assuring him she would be in Orlando first thing on Sunday morning but, in true Evolution style, Ric had promised her that all she needed and more awaited her in the sunshine state before ushering her onto the plane and proceeding to sexually harass every female flight attendant he came across. While Ric downed whiskey after whiskey and became increasingly sexually outrageous, Lita was left alone with her own worst enemy: her thoughts. She had never been a selfish person and had, in fact, spent much of her life trying to help people. Yet it was helping someone who had gotten her in the physical mess she was in at that moment... A small part of her argued that the person she helped would have done the same for her, that he _had_ done the same for her but the rest of her – largely the bandaged or bruised parts – told her that it was better to be selfish. Either way, it only solidified the idea that she truly had become a fully-fledged member of Evolution...

Her hotel room was large, decked out in predominantly white, and flanked by Hunter and Ric's rooms, Dave and Randy further down the corridor. By her bed was the things she'd taken to Anaheim with her the previous week, her wrestling gear long forgotten at the bottom where someone – she presumed Ric or Dave – had stashed them after the show.

Lita allowed her hand to drop from her face and turned away from the mirror. She had come to hate her reflection, long before the bruises had arrived. It was with a heavy sigh that she moved across the room and tentatively moved into a seated position on her bed. It was all her own fault, of course; she had no-one but Evolution and it was all her own fault. She had chosen this life, no matter how she chalked it up. She cast a hopeful glance down at her cell phone which lay just to her side. She had expected at least one text from one of her former friends wondering how she was but that, it appeared, was expecting too much. She was painfully reminded of Hunter's words back at the hospital: "Ric and I were ambushed by your buddies." They had tried to stop them from saving her. They had prolonged the attack on Dave, Randy, and herself. A warm tear began a slow trail down her cheek as she lay back, her head coming to rest on her pillows. They had allowed her to end up in this mess. Not Hunter. Not Randy. Them. Her 'friends'.

Her eyes closed as she dried off her cheek, the lone tear being wiped aside by her thumb. It really had come to this and tomorrow she was going to prove it. Tomorrow she was going to accompany her new 'family' to ringside and she was going to watch as Kane and Goldberg were handed their revenge, even if she couldn't bring herself to choose Randy over Rob, no matter how betrayed and hurt she felt by the Battle Creek native. She was an Evolution member, yes, but she was still Lita. Full of conflicted feelings, the redhead turned to her side and attempted to sleep – she would need as much rest as possible for the pay-per-view – and it was in drowsing off to sleep that she received a single text message. 'Remember to take your painkillers. Randy.'

It was from a place of loneliness, she supposed, that she reached out to grab her phone. Loneliness and a small wave of confusion that came from the painkillers she was prescribed. Her fingers moved quickly over the buttons as she asked him to come over, something she regretted almost instantly. Why would he come to her hotel room? Why did she want him to? With a sigh she rolled her eyes, placing her cell down beside her; he wouldn't reply, of course. Tomorrow was the biggest night of his career so far – why would he want to waste the night before it chatting to her? Lita groaned inwardly at the very thought – she didn't want to chat to him, particularly. There wasn't much to say. All her questions about the previous week had been answered by Ric or by the re-watch of Raw she'd managed to catch that morning. So, when her cell phone lit up, the message on the screen telling her that Randy would be along in five, she forced herself to sit back up, to push back the covers and attempt to look like she knew what she was doing.

When the light knock finally came on her hotel room door, it took all her strength to push to her feet and cross the room to answer it. Dressed in baggy Nike shorts and an old, faded t-shirt, Randy Orton looked ready for a round at the gym, though the bruising around his eye and the cut on his forehead said otherwise. Opening the door wider enough to let him in, Lita nodded in greeting. This wasn't exactly a normal situation for either of them and she wasn't entirely sure how she was supposed to go about it. "You're looking better," Randy acknowledged as he entered the room, hovering at the end of her now un-made bed.

"Wouldn't be hard, though, would it?" she asked, closing the door, and wincing as she motioned for him to take a seat.

"Hunter said you had to forfeit the match tomorrow." He couldn't quite meet her eye as he spoke, sitting on the very edge of the bed and picking at his thumbnail. "That sucks." It had broken her heart when Ric had suggested it, promising that she would have a chance at the title when she was back to health, when she was ready. When she could win. She'd known, deep down, that there was no way she could wrestle, yet it had hurt to be told she had no say in the matter. Hunter had already spoken to Eric Bischoff, who had replaced her faster than she could say 'Evolution'.

"Trish is the number one contender now." It was fair to say that their conversations had rarely been record breaking, yet she had never felt so tense speaking to the youngest member of Evolution. She had resolved herself to being just like him, yet they were worlds apart and, even if she had found an inexplicable soft spot for the St. Louis native, there was something she couldn't quite put her finger on, something about him that made her uneasy.

"I'm sorry," he replied, finally meeting her eye. The grey shadows below his eyes she'd noticed on Wednesday were still present and his shoulders were slumped in defeat.

"It's not your fault," she replied, a small voice in the back of her mind reeling off a list of those whose fault it was. _Goldberg, Chris Jericho, Christian, Kane._

"No. It is. If I'd handled it out there, you wouldn't have got in the ring and…" motioning vaguely to her body, he trailed off. "None of this would have happened. I know it, Hunter knows it, Dave knows it… Hell, even Ric knows it. I was the weak link."

Lita scoffed, certain that this was some sort of joke. She wound up in hospital yet she was supposed to feel sorry for Randy? "Are you kidding me?" she replied, an eyebrow raising and causing pain to shoot through her forehead. "You did the best you could. How were you to see any of that coming?"

"You did. We watched it back – at the hospital. On Tuesday. You saw Kane, you knew what game he was playing –"

"And I did nothing, I get it. You still think I'm not working as a team, yeah?!" Before she could launch into a tirade, she looked back at the man on her bed who was shaking his head.

"Pretty safe to say those bruises you're sporting are proof that you're a team player. I just meant that I was distracted, I wasn't paying attention. If I had, none of this would have happened and now we're going into Armageddon on the back foot. Hunter says it's alright, that we'll still be okay, but seeing you in that hospital bed…" Swallowing thickly, he cracked his knuckles. "I shouldn't have let you get in that position. I said I don't want you at ringside tomorrow, but Hunter told me that wasn't an option."

"Why?" This was not how she had expected the evening to go when she'd asked him over – there was a multitude of scenarios which could have gone down but this, this vulnerable version of Randy trying to apologise… that had not been one of them.

"Says we need to show a united front. What's more united than you being in my corner when I pin your friend?"

She had been about to respond, to tell him that that wasn't what she was questioning – she wanted to know why he was trying to ban her from ringside – but hearing him refer to Rob as her friend stopped her. "A friend would have called by now," she said, her voice quiet as she finally took a seat, her back aching at just the strain of standing up. "None of them have called. I didn't expect them to but, I don't know, Rob was different. Him or Lilian, I thought they'd check to make sure I was okay or…"

It was like just saying the words had made her colder, and she hugged her arms around her body, eyes trained on their feet, Randy's sneakers planted firmly on the floor beside her fluffy socks. "You don't need them. You've got us. You've got Evolution," he replied, the warmth of his arm flooding her as it settled around her shoulder.

"At what cost? I've lost everyone…."

"When you rise to the top, you have to make sacrifices. It's just part of being in Evolution," his voice sounded strained as he spoke, and if it weren't for his arm steadying her, holding her in place, she'd have turned to face him.

"What did you sacrifice, then?"

"Nothing." The steeliness to that one word took her by surprise, given how calm he'd been just seconds before. "Doesn't matter."

For a second, they sat in silence, the diva leaning in slightly as she placed her head on his shoulder. "You don't have to be sorry, you know? I made my own decision to get in the ring. I would have done it regardless of whether I thought you could handle it or not. And I did. I do. But Kane's a different breed – he's something different, unpredictable. And whether it was you or Dave or Ric or Hunter, I'd still have put myself in that position," she found herself assuring him. If he thought it was his fault, it was like he owed it to her to protect her or… no, tomorrow night, when he stepped in the ring with Rob, she wanted his attentions to be fully on the match.

"Bullshit," he replied, though a soft, breathy laugh followed it. Pulling back slightly, he removed his arm from her shoulders, the Diva frowning slightly at the lack of contact. In recent weeks, it had felt as though no one had wanted to touch her, to be near her, and for a few moments, it had been nice just to be held. Twisting slightly, Randy pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, offering a small smile. "Thanks, though." Her eyes trained on his mouth, she nodded. It was stupid, but for a fraction of a second, she'd wanted nothing more than to lean in, to close the gap between them and press her lips to his, just to feel wanted, just to feel real. "I better go. I need to be ready for the match tomorrow," his words cut through her thoughts, dragging her back to reality and Lita couldn't help but feel a little bit ashamed. She'd forgotten herself. And, most importantly, she'd forgotten who he was. "And so do you. I can't have you passing out in my corner." Pushing to his feet, Randy nodded at her, the soft smile she'd seen moments before already fading, the vulnerability long gone. "I'll get the door. Goodnight Lita." And, just like that, she was left alone once more.

* * *

By the time the lights of the arena had dimmed and the pyrotechnics had been tested, Lita was a bundle of nerves. Ric had helped her walk to Gorilla, where she stood, shaking every time Mark Henry or Teddy Long cast the two of them a glance. "Lita? Lita?" Ric snapped his fingers in front of her eyes, shaking her from the trance she had been in. "Lita for God's sake we don't have time for this." She flinched away from his fingers and stared at the older man, the vein in his forehead pulsing. She hadn't noticed until now but Ric looked stressed. Very stressed. It took her a few seconds to realise that they were alone in gorilla, Mark and Teddy – as well as Booker – all having left the area to begin their match in the ring.

"I'm sorry," she said, biting her lip nervously. "I was just in... I was distracted."

"You heard the champ, Princess. We can't have any distractions tonight," Ric replied, adjusting his well-tailored suit, fiddling with the button as he closed and opened the jacket. "This is your chance as much as it is Randy's you know?" Lita's eyebrow quirked and she winced almost instantly. _Need to stop doing that..._ "This is your chance to prove to Hunt that you're loyal to us. After that little outburst at the hospital..."

"I know..." Randy's assurance the previous night that her bumps and bruises had been enough to prove to Evolution she was one of them rang in her ears, though she knew no one believed it.

"So, you know what to do, then?" Her brows furrowed. "You've got to make sure that Randy wins. No matter what happens, Randy Orton has to be crowned the new WWE Intercontinental Champion tonight."

"You want me to cheat." She said simply. There was no defiance, no arguing. That's what she was, now. A cheat.

"We want you to make sure Randy wins," Ric shrugged, finally deciding that his jacket was best left open. "Do the right thing, Lita." He gave her a knowing stare, which made him look almost cross eyed. But the intensity of his stare left the second footsteps could be heard, Ric's head snapping around to where Randy stood, adjusting the waistband of his wrestling shorts. "You ready champ?"

Randy's top lip curled a little, exposing a slither of pearly, white teeth. "You bet," he said, shaking his arms a little, easing out the tension in his shoulders. "And you?" he said, turning to Lita. "You taken those painkillers? You've got to be one hundred percent out there – no flaking on me, now."

Lita's jaw fell as she glared at the young man. "I was hardly flaking out on you last week when I was getting you out of a chokeslam, was I?"

"That wasn't against your buddy Rob, was it?" Randy replied and Lita narrowed her eyes at him. How dare he suggest that she would...that she would betray Evolution? In her mind, she scoffed. Just weeks before, she would have done anything to make sure Randy Orton lost this match and yet here she was... "Look, I was only kidding. But if you don't want to do this, we can tell Hunter you're in too much pain. Ric can come down with me." There was a hint of the softness, of the vulnerability she had heard the previous night and she looked away from him.

"It's fine," she said, swallowing and pushing herself off of the crate she had been leaning against. "I'll escort you to the ring." She raked a hand through her hair and exhaled. "That's Booker's music though...I... I think their match is over."

Ric grinned from ear to ear. "Knew you wouldn't let us down, Princess," he said, clapping a hand on Randy's shoulder. A moment of silence passed as the three waited for Booker, Mark and Teddy to pass them. "Make Evolution proud, Champ." Ric said, once the stage hand gave them a signal to go through the curtain.

And, with that, Randy and Lita made their way out onto the ramp, a cocky grin plastered all over Randy's face as he strode ahead, leaving Lita to limp down on her own. He had already reached the bottom of the ramp when he remembered her injured leg and the third-generation superstar paused as he waited for her to catch up, looking thoroughly bored as Motorhead's 'Line in The Sand' played on. Turning momentarily to gauge how far back she was, Randy was surprised to see her so close. "You alright?" he asked, almost inaudibly over the fans booing as she drew level, the diva nodding in response. After that, the self-proclaimed 'Legend Killer' made a great show of helping her to the steps, of making sure she was safely atop the canvas and pushing down the ropes to make her entrance easier on her battered body. He knew it was a mistake as soon as he clambered onto the turnbuckle to make his trademark pose. He was going to have to help her down, now. His arms spread wide, the Legend Killer snarled at the crowd, looking every bit the imposing wrestler but, as soon as One of a Kind began to blare from the huge speakers either side of the titantron, he returned to the gentleman he had been moments before, jumping back onto the canvas and helping Lita onto the steps.

"Get back in the ring," she said through gritted teeth as she moved herself down the steps and onto the ringside area where she propped herself up against the canvas. The look she drew him was not the look of pure poison he expected, but of encouragement which made the corners of his own lips curl slightly as a smile attempted to spread across his face.

After that, his attention was drawn from the redhead and focused on the Battle Creek native who had entered the ring. This was it. This was his chance to prove himself. To prove that he wasn't just Bob Orton's son, to prove that he was a champion and, most importantly, that he was worthy to be in Evolution. The twenty-three-year-old swallowed and continued to watch Rob. Rob Van Dam. The man who had, if rumours were to be believed, harboured a small crush on Lita before her 'turn to the dark side'. The same man who, just weeks after said turn, had aided in an attack on Randy and Batista which led to Lita being smashed through an announce table. Randy shook his head. This had nothing to do with Lita. This was about him. And Rob. And that title. The third-generation superstar rolled his neck as the two waited, staring each other down, for the special guest referee to arrive.

Foley, as was to be expected, arrived with a bang. The fans were almost deafening in their glee as he bounded down the ramp, high fiving the younger fans who lined the barrier. And yet none of this disconcerted Randy, who continued to watch Rob through narrowed eyes, Foley a mere blur in his peripheral vision. As the ring bell sounded and the match began, everything else went out of his mind. He didn't think about Hunter's demand that he bring home the gold, he didn't think about keeping the injured diva at ringside safe and he most certainly did not think about the strip-club he was going to be frequenting once the pay-per-view was over. All thoughts were focussed on Rob.

Lita watched with bated breath as Randy and Rob began to trash talk, their words deafened by the fans though she could surmise that at least one of the jibes or comments had been about her. Randy rolled his eyes as, alongside the fans, Rob began to chant his own name but, by the time he reached the third syllable, Randy's boot had connected with his stomach, making the Battle Creek native double over in pain, Lita wincing as he did.

As the wrestlers in the ring exchanged blows, kicks and derogatory slurs, Lita watched on, her stomach churning the longer the match wore on. Her mind – such a traitor – was filled with memories of times spent with Rob, of evenings spent eating pineapple and cheese pizza and watching old comedies, of days spent in the gym working on her fitness as she prepared to return to the ring, of jokes and laughter, of friendship. _And then there's Randy._ The former Women's Champion watched as both of Randy's feet left the canvas as he connected with a dropkick, Rob shaking the canvas as his body fell from impact. _Randy was a member of Evolution and, therefore, he represented all that was wrong in wrestling._ He moved in for the pin, Foley duly counting. _He represented corruption and cheating._ ONE. _He represented bias and favouritism._ TWO. _He was friends with Triple H for goodness' sake..._ Rob kicked out of the pin, showing everyone in attendance that it would take more than a dropkick to finish off the current champion.

The redhead flinched as Randy's fist connected with the canvas, the young man looking livid. In next to no time, however, he was back to his feet, ready to attack. _He's not all that bad,_ thought Lita as the two locked up for the umpteenth time in the match. _He did save you...More than once. And last night you wanted to kiss him…_ She shifted her weight between her feet, wincing as she did. The diva swallowed. _Need to up the dosage on those painkillers tonight..._

She looked up, dragging her mind from her leg, just in time to watch Rob throw Randy over the top rope, the third-generation superstar landing on the hard flooring by the ring. She wasn't quite sure what compelled her nor where she found the strength but, in mere seconds, she was by his side, a thin hand reaching out to grip his shoulder as he grabbed the barrier, hauling himself up into an almost standing position. "Come on, Randy," she said, squeezing his shoulder lightly. "Back in there."

Her words were lost on him, however, as Rob cannonballed over the top rope, the champion landing on Randy whose head clattered against the barrier, the diva being thrown to the side and letting out a cry of pain as her leg seemed to burn. Perhaps it had been her shrill cry or perhaps he had been biding his time, hoping for a moment to speak to her but regardless of the motivation, Lita found herself cast in shadow as Rob stood before her. "Lita..." he said, his arms open, a remorseful look in his eyes.

_ONE..._ Mick began the count-out.

"Stay away from me," she gasped, scooting backwards. If truth be told – and in Evolution, it so rarely was – she wasn't sure where the sudden sense of fear came from. All she knew was that she was defenceless and on the floor while Rob, who had caused her fall, loomed over her.

_TWO..._

"Lita I didn't mean...Please," he extended a hand, offering to help her up but the redhead eyed him warily. "Lita..."

_THREE..._

"Get away from me, Rob. I mean it..."

_FOUR..._

"Don't be like this. Please, I'm sorry..." And he truly did look sorry, holding out an unwanted, slightly shaking hand, his eyes full of sorrow and regret.

_FIVE..._

"I said 'get away'..." her voice shook as she scooted back some more, though Rob made no attempt to close the gap between them, the wrestler standing alone and rejected as his opponent began to stir.

_SIX..._

"I didn't realise how close you were..."

_SEVEN..._

Lita frowned. What in the name of God is that supposed to mean? She and Randy weren't close and it was preposterous to claim they – OH. Lita's mind finally caught up as she realised he had meant the physical distance between the two. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted that Randy was almost to his feet, now; even if he was having to use the barrier to hold himself up. "Get back in the ring!" she called across to him. "Get back in the ring – BOTH of you!"

_EIGHT..._

Rob looked down at the woman who seemed genuinely distraught at the idea of a count-out. _Of course she is,_ he thought to himself. _Orton can't win with a count-out._ He stalled for a fraction of a second before walking towards Randy and, with all the force he could muster, threw him towards the canvas, the taller man rolling under the bottom rope and back into the ring. Climbing between the ropes, Rob followed suit to end the count-out.

Lita exhaled as the two returned to trading blows, using the time they spent in headlocks and roll ups to pull herself towards the barrier and, just as Randy had done, she used the sturdy black barrier to haul herself to her feet. It took the diva much longer to walk from the security wall to the canvas than it should have, enough time for Randy to apply a front face lock into a DDT, Rob's face smashing into the matt as Lita finally gripped onto the apron. Rob was out, no doubt about that, but Randy was struggling to stir. "Come on, Randy," she found herself calling, urging him to move, to pin the current champion. To win.

Slowly but surely, Randy dragged himself closer to the champion, slugging one arm over him as he moved to cover his body and Mick, once again, began a three count. Surprisingly, the former Women's Champion felt as though her heart was in her throat as the legend of hardcore Mick Foley brought his hand down to count the 'three'. Randy was going to be champion. He was going to -

He wasn't going to do anything, just yet. Not while Rob's hand clutched at the bottom rope, ending the three count.

The diva exhaled a long breath she hadn't been aware she was holding as Randy slumped to the side, dejected and aware that he had very little energy and momentum left. Mick shifted to the corner as both men got to their feet unsteadily, Randy just a fraction of a second behind Rob who delivered a spinning kick to his sternum. The champion was running purely on instinct now, throwing kicks in all directions, some connecting with the number one contender while others fell on flat air. After one particularly energetic kick, both men lay flat on the matt, Randy seeing stars while Rob did his best to catch his breath.

But, soon enough, Rob was on the top rope, preparing to end the match. Randy was still out of it, from what Lita could see; the young man lying, unmoving in the centre of the ring as Rob set himself up for the Five Star Frog Splash. She knew what she had to do. The diva clambered onto the apron, screaming at Rob, at Randy and at Mick who, as referee, was forced to urge her from her position, giving Randy a split second to capitalize. And capitalize he did. It appeared that Rob wasn't the only participant in the match working on sheer instinct and momentum alone as Randy executed a perfect dropkick to Rob who landed astride the turnbuckle before falling to the canvas, his hands clutching at his genitals as he writhed in pain.

Once again, Lita's heart soared and she instantly jumped from the apron, cursing herself for doing such a thing as her weight pressed down on her injured leg. Once sure that Lita would be of no bother or distraction, Mick turned back to the ring where Rob was – for the umpteenth time – getting to his feet but Randy was much faster than he, the St. Louis native striking at almost lightning speed as he hit his finishing manoeuvre – the R.K.O.

For three seconds, Lita held her breath and her heart pounded each time Mick's hand beat the canvas. Once. Twice. Thrice. And suddenly she felt sick.

He had done it. Randy Orton was the new Intercontinental Champion and, damn, did he know it. The twenty-three-year-old collapsed to his knees almost the second Mick handed him the title, his head pressed against the canvas and the belt clutched close to his chest as he began to cry. He knew he would be chided for it, that Hunter and Dave and Ric would most likely make him regret behaving like such a fool but he had won. He was a champion. He was Randy Orton – Intercontinental Champion. And then he felt it – the tug on his hand as Lita tried to pull him to his feet. "You did it, champ," she said softly as he attempted to move into a standing position, his legs giving way on his first try. "Come on." She encouraged as, finally, he made it to his feet, the diva tugging at his title belt.

Looking back on it, she would never understand what possessed her to do it but she would always blame it on the adrenaline from the match because, inexplicably, she found herself fastening the title around Randy's waist of her own accord, grabbing his hand and, though her ribs screamed in protest at the movement, holding it high in victory as the crowd erupted, making their anger at the new champion obvious.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys! Sorry it's taken so long to get chapter 8 out, I've been super busy thanks to work and a few other things cropping up. Hope this chapter gets you guys ;)

"I've never done that before," she said softly, her voice little more than a whisper. "I've never helped someone win a title by cheating..." The only other person in the room appeared not to hear her as he stared down at his new title belt as though it were made of gold. "I mean, maybe what Matt, Jeff and I did in the past had dubious legality but...I was never aware I was doing it, you know? I never knew I was intentionally cheating to..." She trailed off, knowing that Randy couldn't hear her. Just ten minutes before, she had helped him win the Intercontinental Championship and, while the other three members of Evolution were at gorilla waiting for Dave's match against Shawn Michaels to begin, the two had been left alone in the locker room to cool down and get changed.

"Did you say something?" Randy asked, his hands trailing across the cool, metal plate which lay in the centre of the belt. Lita shook her head. "I can't believe it...I'm champion. I gotta call my dad..." She noted that, while he said he had to, he never reached for his cell causing the diva to question whether his father would appreciate the call or not. Silence fell between the two as he returned to staring at his belt, his index finger tracing the name plate which would soon read 'Randy Orton'. "Thanks, by the way. I shoulda said it out there but..."

"But you were too caught up in the moment," she finished for him, laughing. "I cried for over an hour after I won my first title. Jeff and Matt still mock me for it. Or they would. If we were still friends..."

"You didn't have to do it -" Randy began, but Lita cut him off.

"If you're going to tell me that you had the match won then don't bother. We both know if the Frog-splash had connected you wouldn't have recovered."

"I was talking about the fact that he was your friend but..." Randy trailed off, before piping up again, a cocky grin on his face. "What do you mean I wouldn't have recovered? I'm Randy Orton – Intercontinental Champion. Of course I would've recovered."

"Sure you would've," the diva laughed, wincing almost instantly afterwards as a shot of pain racked through her ribs. She leaned across to grab her bag from the arm of the sofa and began rooting around until she found her painkillers. She tried to turn the cap to open the bottle but found she had very little strength and, though she tried three or four times, she made no difference to the tightness of the cap.

"Let me get it," Randy said and, suddenly, he was much too close. He took the bottle of painkillers from her and, with an ease which made her feel incredibly pathetic, opened it, handing both the bottle and the cap back to her before throwing himself onto the sofa beside her. It was like being under the watchful eye of Big Brother as she took two painkillers from the bottle and, taking a sip of water from the bottle beside her, swallowed them. The diva turned once she had placed the cap back on the bottle, planning to put the prescription back into her bag but found herself inches from Randy who, it seemed, had been studying her intently. "Thanks," he repeated for the second time.

"You said that," Lita replied, avoiding eye contact as she reached to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. He was far too close for her liking now. Her hands grew clammy and her heartbeat soared as the handsome twenty three year old leaned in to close the gap between their lips. For a moment, time seemed to stop, the only thing certain for the redhead being the thumping of her heart which seemed likely to burst through her chest as his lips ghosted against her own. Strong hands moved forward, holding her head in place as he pulled back from the kiss.

"So, I'm thinking you and Dave should be waiting at gorilla in case anything happens during my match tonight," Hunter's voice boomed as the door of the locker room swung open.

"Hunt," said Randy, not missing a beat as he straightened up, his hand still cupping her face. "Come here and see Lita's eye, I think Rob might've connected with that stupid cannonball trick he pulled earlier.

And, as Hunter moved across the room in a few short strides to see what damage had been done, Lita had never been more pleased to see him. Or more disappointed.

* * *

The night had continued in a blur, Lita only vaguely aware of the matches which followed Randy's as Hunter, Dave and Ric filtered in and out of the locker room. It was difficult to concentrate on the television, where Trish Stratus lost her chance to become Women's Champion, when her mind insisted on repeating the events from earlier in the evening. She had tried to watch, to focus on the ref holding up Molly Holly's hand in victory, but her hand moved, unbidden, towards her lips, the pad of her index finger rubbing along the bottom one, mirroring where Randy's own had been earlier. "You alright, Princess?" Ric asked, the shiny title belt in his hand the only indicator that he had been in a match for the diva. Had she congratulated him? She couldn't remember. Perhaps she'd congratulated Dave, at some point. "You've been staring at that screen with a blank face for near on ten minutes. Don't you worry, though, it'll be you next time. You'll win."

"Huh?" an eyebrow raised as she turned to face him properly. "Oh, the match. Yeah."

"You sure Rob didn't do serious damage? You seem pretty spaced…" Randy asked, the third-generation superstar showered and fully dressed, spread languidly across the sofa across from her. She wanted to hurt him, to throw something at him and ask how on earth he could be so relaxed after he'd kissed her, but instead she shook her head, hand dropping from her lips as she turned back to face the screen again. "Well you better shake out of it, Lita. Hunter's going out there to win, tonight. Clean sweep. All four male titles on Raw coming home to Evolution. He's gonna wanna party."

"I don't think I'm up to partying, just yet," she said, eyes flickering between the television, where Hunter was making his way down to the ring, and Ric, searching for some sort of sign of approval. "I'm still on some pretty strong painkillers and I don't know if I'll be up for Raw if I go out on them and, I mean, surely that's more important, right? Showing a united front tomorrow, when you guys all have your titles?" She sounded almost pleading as she glanced again at Ric, hoping he would allow her a night off, that he wouldn't force her to socialise with them. Though she'd grown some sort of connection to her new faction, she needed some time to herself, time to think about the mess she'd gotten herself into.

"You're right there," Ric replied, his eyes trained to the television. He had been pacing the room since Hunter and Dave had left, the shuffling of his boots on the flooring a constant echo in the background of Lita's daydreaming. Was he nervous? She wondered. Did he think Hunter wouldn't win? Swallowing hard, she stiffened as Finger Eleven's Slow Chemical filled the arena, and the man who had near snapped her in half began his descent to the ring. Hunter had to win. He had to show Kane and Goldberg that they couldn't mess with Evolution, that they couldn't hurt her like that. And besides, Dave was at the ring. He had this. "Now shut up, you two, we gotta watch this."

For the first time since Randy kissed her, Lita was alert, her hands fisted in her lap as she watched the match, begging for Kane to face retribution. She'd never thought that the World Heavyweight Title contest would mean so much to her but for every left and right Kane took, her heart soared. The locker room was tense, on more than one occasion as they watched Goldberg or Kane move in for the pin, all three of them making audible noises of relief when the count was broken, and though some of them were dubiously long two-counts none of them complained. She wasn't sure when she pulled her legs to her chest, arms wrapping around them as she ignored the pain in her lower back but as Batista hauled Kane from the ring, she found herself gripping her legs painfully hard. Nails dug crescent moons into her legs as she watched, elated, as Hunter cheated to win, the three-count signalling that the title had changed hands.

* * *

The evening's events had drained Lita, who had returned to her hotel room after Raw, leaving her fellow Evolution members to head out to celebrate. Nestled amongst the pillows, she willed the painkillers to finally kick in, to allow the knots in her back to disappear and to let her find some peace in sleep, but even if they could work, could alleviate the pain she was in, they would do nothing to shut down her brain and stop it from replaying that kiss over and over. Since Dave had seen her to her door, ensuring she made it back to her room safely, she had been alone with her thoughts – horrible, traitorous thoughts which all seemed to hate Hunter for interrupting. Would she have kissed him back, if they'd been alone for longer? Did she want to? There was no denying that he was an attractive man, or that he had shown her kindness in the smallest ways, ways that helped her feel more part of Evolution than anything else. And yet… Sighing, she eased herself onto her side, wriggling until she could make herself comfortable. She wasn't some silly little girl, she knew better than to fall for a pair of pretty blue eyes and a few gentlemanly moves; that was the sort of thing that girls like Stacy Keibler or Torrie Wilson fell for. She was better than that. Wasn't she?

For years, she'd thought herself above those girls, the girls who revelled in bra and panties matches and contented themselves with the male attention they received for their looks as opposed to their athletic ability. But now, as she lay in bed, unable to take her mind off of the new Intercontinental Champion, she wasn't so sure how they differed. She hung around at the side of the apron, helped some stupid wrestler win their matches and was happy to take the scraps he gave her in the form of attention. Letting out a frustrated groan, she rolled onto her back once more. It's the medication, she told herself, thinking of the cocktail of painkillers that were currently coursing through her bloodstream. If you weren't on such strong painkillers, you'd have pushed him away. Your reflexes aren't so good right now. You're better than this.

Reaching for the television remote, Lita flicked turned on the first channel available, eyes trained on the infomercial which lit up the room as an ultra-peppy television presenter tried her best to convince the audience that she had been using the Dust Buster 3000 for months already. It had been something she'd done for years, watching the late night shopping channels or after-hours infomercials when she couldn't sleep, the monotony of it all helping her drift off, and soon enough, thoughts of Randy Orton slipped from her mind as she fell into a slumber, her body relaxing for the first time in hours.

* * *

It couldn't have been much later when she jolted awake, the bang of a nearby door tearing her from her dreams. For a few seconds, she lay, disorientated and confused, in silence. Her dream had been nice, though it slipped away from her with every waking second, and the memory of the beach setting, the warm sun on her skin and the sand between her toes, drifted away as consciousness filtered in once more. Stretching, the redhead rolled onto her side, grabbing at her phone, and wincing away from the screen as she checked the time. Thirteen minutes past four read the screen and Lita sighed. She couldn't have been asleep for more than a couple of hours. Tossing her phone aside once more, she stretched out, cursing whoever it was that had woken her. Who was it the reception had said was nearby – Dave? Yes, she thought, it sounded like the door had near come off its hinges. Only someone with his strength could cause that sort of chaos.

I can whine at him tomorrow, she thought, wrapping herself amongst the pillows and covers, desperate to recover the cosiness she had found earlier. Maybe over breakfast. With thoughts of breakfast on her mind, Lita smiled to herself, her eyes already starting to feel heavy, but as sleep began to creep in, she was snapped awake, a high, breathy moan of 'Randy' echoing through the wall. "Mother of God…" she muttered, pulling a pillow over her head to try and block out the noise of Randy's companion, thoughts of castrating Dave quickly gone. While the pillow muted the sound coming from next door, the female voice quickly joined by a steady rhythm of a headboard against the wall, it did nothing to mute her thoughts or the strange tug which she felt in her stomach or the disappointment which threatened to choke her. What did she have to be disappointed about? She chastised herself, swallowing down the strange, confusing thoughts. It was only a kiss…


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N : Firstly, I would just like to say a massive thank you to my readers, to everyone who has given my fanfiction a read, a like or a comment. It really does mean a lot to me. I've been ridiculously busy and a lot of personal issues have prevented me from being able to write anything, never mind the stuff I wanted to. Secondly, I am on a roll with this story now and I am so excited for you guys to see where it's going! I hope you love it.

It had been a long time since Lita had had what most people would call 'boy trouble'. Sure, there had been that sort of flirtation Christian had been working on, but she had nipped that in the bud before anything had really grown, and what had happened between her and Matt just a couple of weeks ago could hardly be considered your regular 'boy trouble'. Most people's definitions of that term didn't include being smashed in the face with a steel cage door and being publicly humiliated and fired from your dream job. Usually, in these scenarios, she would go to Trish and, over breakfast or on the way to the arena, they would talk it out and Trish would give her some sort of pep talk which usually involved at least one of those 'inspirational quotes' often found in glitter cursive online, all of which equated to how Lita didn't need a man. But she couldn't go to Trish this time. Gentle Trish who, deep down, had never hated someone so long as Lita had known her. Well, she hated someone now.

And even if she could go to her, Lita reasoned, swallowing down the painkillers she had been prescribed a few days before, what could she say? That Randy Orton, known womaniser and all round vile human was exactly what they had thought he was? With a groan, she closed her eyes, giving herself a minute before pushing to her feet. She had to speak to him – she was an adult, after all – and she needed to clear things up with him. It had been a big night for everyone and the adrenaline levels had been more than high… Swallowing, she grabbed her room key and her purse and, slowly and tentatively, she left her room. It wasn't personal, really. She'd thought about it in the shower that morning – it wasn't that she particularly cared about Randy. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more obvious it was that she didn't even know him. Their conversations were always about work, about Evolution, about her injuries or maladies or whatever else she'd gotten herself into and, really, that alone told her it wasn't personal. She wasn't drawn to him because of who he was; she was drawn to him because she was lonely, because she was on a lot of painkillers and, though she hated to admit it, because he was a handsome man who spent a lot of time around her. And he'd been kind. It didn't make him a good person, or one she'd choose to be around were the circumstances different, but it made sense, she figured. These thoughts comforted her as the elevator played it's tinny, old fashioned music during her descent and, by the time she was spat out into the parking lot, she felt almost better.

Having missed breakfast due to lack of sleep, and the pasta dish she had ordered on room service for lunch growing cold and rubbery on her bedside table, Lita's stomach growled as she walked towards the limit. Food didn't sit well when she'd slept so little, especially not when she was so wound up, but she was ravenous now and as she opened the door, she hoped there would be some sort of food she could eat before the others arrived.

"Shut the door, for God's sake," Batista's voice echoed through the parking lot almost the second the door opened, letting in a stream of light from the bright strip lights overhead. "My head is pounding." As she slipped into the back of the car, it was an effort not to respond that his wasn't the only one, instead muttering that she could have brought some painkillers, making herself comfortable across from him. She was the last one to arrive and, though no one asked, she began concocting a thousand excuses as to why. 'Because I couldn't stop thinking about Randy' was not one of them. Hunter, behind dark sunglasses, nodded his head in recognition, but said nothing, while Ric looked rather green around the gills beside him. Orton, however, looked ready to take on the world, his dark suit perfectly tailored to his long legs, the Intercontinental Championship taking up all of his attention as he ran a finger across the newly attached name plate which boasted his name.

"Good night?" she asked, forcing herself to look at anyone else.  _You're lonely, you're filled with painkillers, you just want someone to be nice._  She repeated it like a mantra in her head as Hunter nodded, a small smirk pulling at his lips.

"You could say that," he replied, sounding tired, as though 'good' for Evolution equated to 'heavy'. Having never drank with them, she could only imagine that it did. "You missed out. Didn't she boys?" A mumble of agreement left Batista, though the other two didn't reply.

"Sounds like I did."

As the limo pulled off, the men fell silent, leaving Lita to stare out of the window, watching as the parking lot dissolved into a dark blue and grey wash of the night outside. It was going to be a long night, she knew, and it hadn't even begun.

* * *

The locker room, as expected, was decked out lavishly, a widescreen television taking up almost all of one wall, while white flowers stood in crystal vases either end of the two leather sofas and Lita carefully navigated her way to a seat. Perhaps it was the fatigue or the hunger, but even the trip from the limo to the locker room had exhausted her, her ribs protesting with every step and she wondered how on Earth she had managed the night before.  _Adrenaline_ , she reminded herself, both the best and worst thing to happen to her the previous night. "I'll go get the match card, get some water, sort myself out," Ric said, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket. It was the first words Lita had heard him say that evening and she hated herself for smiling when he let out a feeble 'woo'. "Big night ahead of us, after all."

As Ric headed back out of the door, off to find Bischoff or 'sort himself out' or whatever it was he planned, the others made themselves comfortable, Randy shrugging off his suit jacket while Dave took a seat, Hunter laughing as the door swung closed. "Tag team champion at fifty-four," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Who'd have thought it? He can still party with the best of us."

"Just takes him a bit longer to recover," Dave added, a grin tugging at his lips.

"Says the guy who almost cried when I opened the door earlier," Lita replied, turning on the Animal with a jovial smile. It was a strange feeling, that sense of camaraderie which filled her as she teased him. "I'd place good money on Ric drinking you under the table." For a moment, she embraced it, allowing herself to feel a part of things and as Randy and Hunter laughed, she nudged Dave with her foot. For a moment, she could ignore the conflicting feelings towards the men and simply allow herself to relax. A small nagging voice told her that was another side-effect of the painkillers, but it was definitely one of the preferable ones.

The four members of Evolution had barely any time to further engage in jokes, however, as Ric returned, his face set in stone. "Got some good and bad news," he said, holding out a piece of paper with the evening's match card on it. From their seated positions, Lita and Dave couldn't see the 'good and bad news' but Hunter's lips pressed into a thin line as he read it.

"Is Foley fucking serious?" he asked, his voice gravelly, low, and dangerous and, even though Lita was almost certain she wouldn't be on the opposite end of his wrath, she felt her blood run cold.

"Hunter, what is it?" Dave asked, sitting a little straighter, a little more alert. Randy dragged his attention from his cell, looking up at Hunter with bright blue eyes filled with concern.

"You've got a match, kid," the blond man replied, removing his sunglasses, and looking towards the new Intercontinental champion. "You and Foley in the Main Event." Orton let out a low whistle, but showed no other sign of worry. In fact, he looked almost relieved.

Was that the bad news? Lita could think of worse, personally, and she looked towards the other occupants of the room. "And the rest of you?"

"Tag match. Three of us versus Michaels, Van Dam and Goldberg," Ric replied calmly, shrugging off any worry or concern. "I've already spoken to Bischoff, he's taking care of it." So, they were really concerned about Mick Foley? That was the problem? Lita raised an eyebrow, wondering if the alcohol was still messing with Ric's brain. There were a hundred, thousand other possibilities, many of which had flashed through her mind in those few seconds before he'd explained.

"He thinks he can just insert himself into matches now?" Hunter asked. Taking a deep breath, his chest heaved and Lita, for just a moment, almost pitied Mick Foley. She'd rarely seen Hunter so irate at the hands of anyone other than Goldberg. Not in recent memory, anyway. "We'll see about that." Without waiting for fanfare or comment, Hunter left, Ric hot on his heels as the door swung behind them, leaving the other three in their wake.

"I thought Van Dam had evoked his rematch clause," Randy said, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "But Foley? Some old has been with an ego complex?" With a scoff, he shook his head. "It's like having a night off."

"I wouldn't go that far, kid," Dave replied, pushing to his feet. Lita could have sworn the sofa sighed in relief. "Foley can pull a lot of strings these days and Hunt will expect you at ringside for our match, if you're not banned." Rolling his neck, he grabbed one of the duffel bags sitting by the door. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go get ready."

As the larger man left the room, Lita turned her attention to Randy, glad to have him alone. "What are you playing at?" she demanded, staring at the young man in disbelief. Lazily, he dragged his own attention from the belt in front of him, which he still stroked absent-mindedly, even when his eyes were cast elsewhere. When he raised one shoulder in a barely-visible shrug, Lita glared in disbelief. "Well?!"

"Well, what?" Randy replied, sounding almost bored. "He's almost twice my age. He hasn't wrestled properly in years and last time he was here, I kicked him down the stairs. I have no reason to be worried." She wanted to argue with him, to tell him that his over-confidence would come back and bite him in the ass, that Mick Foley was ten times the wrestler he would ever be, but she couldn't – that was a fight for another day and, truthfully, what he had said wasn't wrong.

"I don't mean about Foley, you fucking idiot," she replied instead, her words barely more than a whisper. "I mean last night."

"What about it?"

"You kissed me!"

"Did I?" The corners of his lips twisted into a smirk, an eyebrow quirked in her direction, the dark-haired man shrugging his shoulders as he leaned back on the sofa, eyes never leaving her. "I can't remember that. You'll need to refresh my memory."

Taking a deep breath, Lita waited to respond. Her heart was pounding against her chest and she hated herself for even bringing it up, for thinking they could have a civil conversation about this. "Randy, don't," she warned, holding her hand up to silence him. She wanted to slap him, to shake him and demand he be honest, instead she clenched her other hand into a fist, counting backwards from three before speaking again. "You kissed me. You kissed me and then…you acted like nothing happened."

"It didn't," he laughed, his face crumpled in confusion. "I don't know what you think happened, Lita. But I never kissed you. You might need to get that head checked, after all – I said you'd taken a bump but you might actually be concussed…" With another scoff, he grinned, eyes bright and blue and entirely believable. "We didn't kiss."

Lita's stomach seemed to turn and her fingers reached to her lips – she could still feel his lips against hers, soft and gentle. Surely, she couldn't have imagined that? Brow furrowed, she shook her head. "We did. You kissed me and then Hunter came in and you said you thought Rob had hit me…" She sounded less certain now, and she cleared her throat. "You kissed me. I know you did."

If Randy was going to reply, his chance was cut short as the door of the locker room swung open, the handle hitting the wall with such force that Lita watched as it dented inwards, white dust and debris falling from where it hit. Hunter, letting out a roar of anger, slammed it closed behind himself and Ric and both Lita and Randy flinched in confusion and horror. "What's up, champ?" Randy asked, watching Hunter with great concern.

"I'll tell you what's up," Hunter seethed, his breathing laboured as he paced the locker room. "Mick Foley has just gone and made the match for your title, that's what's up."

Silence seemed to engulf the room, which felt entirely too stuffy, too crowded, and too tense for the redhead. Hunter's heavy breathing and stomping footsteps echoed throughout the room as she tried to think of something to say. Hadn't Randy just told her he wasn't worried? Why was Hunter so wound up? Randy could do it… But as the Intercontinental Champion sighed and he let out an exhale of, "Fuck", Lita wasn't so sure.

* * *

It had been too much in the locker room – even after Bischoff had announced that Goldberg was suspended or 'out of action' or whatever stupid term he had used, and the evening had gotten much easier for three fifths of the room, the tension had been unbearable. After the match had been over and Ric and Hunter had boasted for over five minutes about how Mick Foley didn't stand a chance, things hadn't cleared and when they returned to the locker room, she had left them with a silent Randy, who hadn't spoken since Hunter had dropped the bombshell. She had bombarded him with questions – both about his upcoming match and his denial of their kiss – yet nothing had moved him and he had closed his eyes, rubbing at his temples as though her very voice was an irritant. Leaving him to be babysat by his elders, Lita slipped from the room, needing to get away from the testosterone-filled getaway. Hunter, Dave and Ric had been pumped after their match and she could only take so much of their 'pep talks' with Randy, even if she highly doubted they would work.

Taking solace in the corridor, the redhead leaned her back against the cool, chrome crates which transported the ring and the rigging to the arena, enjoying the cold nipping at what little skin she had on show. Her skin was mottled with colour, an awful painting of yellows and fading purples, and she had done her best to hide the bruises.  _I didn't imagine it_ , she thought, pressing the palm of her hands to the chrome.  _I didn't imagine it. It was real and I felt it. He kissed me. So why is he denying it?_  She knew this wasn't what she was supposed to be focusing on right now – she should have been thinking about the match which, whether she wanted to or not, she was going to have to accompany Randy to – yet she couldn't shift the anger and, though she hated to even think of it, the hurt she felt at his denial. How could she walk down that ramp with him and genuinely want him to win when he'd made her feel like an imbecile? _The same way you did when you couldn't stand the sight of him_ , she sighed, running cold hands through her hair.

"You're overreacting," she muttered, shaking her head, and watching as red hair fell in front of her eyes. "It was just a kiss. It wasn't even anything special. It was…" Fuck, it was maddening. She wanted to punch something, to smash her fists into the crates and scream and – and what? What could she do? With another sigh, she accepted her fate. She knew she was right and, soon enough, she would get him to admit it – purely out of principle, she told herself – but for now, she had to focus on this match. She had to be a team player and she had to make sure Randy kept that title.

As she turned to head back along the corridor and into the locker room, a soft, muttering sound grew louder and Lita's head whipped around, the diva unnerved by the voice. It was female, she thought, and as she walked in the direction of it, she was hesitant – it could be a trap, she worried. It could be Molly or Gail or Trish… _It could be anyone and I can't even defend myself…_  But as the owner of the voice rounded the corner, Lita was shocked to see Victoria, muttering to herself and tugging at her hair. Reminded of the kindness the other woman had shown her a couple of weeks back after the steel cage match, Lita continued towards her. "Victoria?" she asked, her voice as soft as she could make it. "Victoria – are you okay?"

The angered screech which left the other woman startled Lita, who jumped. "Okay? Okay?" Victoria's eyes were wide and alert, shifting restlessly as she neared the redhead. "It's all his fault. If he would just give me a title shot…" There was no need to ask who the 'he' in question was but Lita frowned – all of this because of Bischoff? What could he possibly have done? Fired her? "It's a conspiracy. They're all in on it together." But Lita lost track of the other woman's mumblings, and she was barely able to make out snippets of her speech.

"What are you talking about? Who's all in it together?" She'd heard rumours, of course, that Victoria wasn't exactly stable – hell, she'd seen it for herself on a few occasions – but this just seemed over the top. She could barely speak coherently, her hands fisted in her hair – and all because of a title shot?

"Men!" Victoria burst, as though it were the most obvious answer in the world. "Men! They're all in it together – but you'd know all about that!" Snarling, she moved closer to Lita. "You're all safe and cosy up in your ivory tower, men fawning at your feet. You're not so special." She was close now – too close – and Lita could smell her shampoo as she leaned in, their noses touching as the other diva hissed. "You wouldn't think you were so great if you knew – "And with that she pushed herself away, muttering to herself once more, her hand colliding with one of the crates as she stalked off.

"Knew what? Victoria, I don't know what you're talking about. What do I not know?" Lita's voice was shrill, unfamiliar to her ears as she begged the other woman to explain. Things were confusing enough in her life - she didn't need any more disrupt right now and der legs and back protested as she tried to keep up with her colleague, to catch up and demand an answer.

"About the bet!" And with a cackle to rival any Disney villain, she rushed up the corridor, making unintelligible noises and leaving the redhead thoroughly confused.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am so sorry that it has taken so long to update this; I got a little caught up with work and studying but I promise that I'm back on track and will (hopefully) be updating more regularly. I just want to say a massive, massive thank you to those of you who had read, commented, followed or favourited since Chapter 9 was posted (and before then, of course!). I hope you enjoy this chapter and that you continue to follow it as we head into 2004. PS. Please leave feedback, I love reading what you think.

The locker room was tense, as four-fifths of Evolution sat on the couches, watching the wide-screen television taking up most of the wall. Mick Foley was a smart man, that much had to be said; by making his own stipulation for the match, he had ensured that Randy had just as much to lose as he did and, in doing so, he'd eclipsed the fact that Evolution would be banned from ringside. By the time Lita had returned to the locker room, Randy had been fired up, angry at everything and everyone around him and she had been glad to be excused from accompanying him to ringside. She had her own issues, of course; Victoria's mention of a bet far from forgotten, but as Randy paced the locker room she had kept her queries and investigations to herself. This bet nonsense could wait. Mick Foley, however, could not.

It was hard for Lita to watch the screen as people she had once considered friends lined up to wish Mick good luck, clapping his back and telling him they had his back. Rob had felt like a blow to the chest, but after the previous evening's events, it hadn't hurt half so much as watching Tommy Dreamer and Stacy wish him luck. It felt almost personal, despite the fact that she wasn't involved in the match and, truthfully, she wasn't even invested in it. Not really… But when Shawn Michaels stepped up with his well wishes, the entire room held their breath, a bottle of water flying across the room to smash against the wall as Mick announced Hunter's match against him in two weeks' time. As Hunter raged, veins pulsing in his temple and neck, Lita stared straight ahead, watching Mick and his toothless grin. She had always looked up to him in a way, impressed at his tenacity and everything he had done for the Hardcore scene. Yet all she could think of as she watched him was how smug he looked, how irritating that stupid wink towards the camera was and how she couldn't wait for him to be fired that evening, once Randy had pinned him

The thoughts almost shocked her. She had never – knowingly – wanted any of Evolution to win. Even the previous night, as she'd fastened the belt around Randy's waist, she couldn't remember a conscious thought where she'd wanted him to win. Sure, she'd cheered him on last night, she'd encouraged him, she'd helped him but that was just part of the deal. She had to be an _active_ member of Evolution. But this…Swallowing thickly, she trained her eyes on the television, watching as the screen turned to black for the commercial break.

The break seemed over all too soon, with Dave and Ric trying to placate the World Heavyweight Champion, who's attentions were far from the match at hand. But as Mick's entrance song began, all eyes turned to the television. _The sooner this match is over the better…_ she thought, wringing her hands together. Everything was so tense, the air thick as Hunter seethed beside her, Ric casting anxious glances in his direction every few seconds, while Dave stared at the screen with an expression that Lita was sure mimicked her own. As Mick clamoured into the ring with a lack of grace or pomp, Randy watched him, eyes unreadable as his fingers grazed his belt, yet something was amiss.

"What's Foley playing at?" asked Dave, brows furrowed as the former Hardcore Champion paced the ring. Once, twice, he circled it, before heading back to the ropes and slipping back through them, turning his back on Randy and heading up the ramp. The Evolution locker room exchanged perplexed looks, each of them mistrustful of the co-General Manager's actions. "He's leaving the ring. Can he be counted out if the bell hasn't rung?" Yet no one answered, all four of them staring at the screen, watching as Randy spoke to the referee, demanding to know what was happening, a question they all wanted answering.

The cameras followed as Mick headed to the back, collecting his things from the General Manager's office and made his way toward the back door. Hunter's eyes flickered towards the door, instinctively wanting to head from the locker room, to head after Mick himself, yet besides his hands balling into fists, he made no other movement. "Where's the kid?" Ric asked, as Mick was stopped on-screen by Eric Bischoff, reminding him of the stipulations. If he left through those doors, he would cease to be co-General Manager. He would cease to be anything, within the WWE. But Ric didn't have to wait long for an answer as Randy caught up to the older man, berating him verbally before spitting in his face.

It wasn't the classiest of moves, Lita had to admit, but as Mick left through the doors, heading out into the cold, December night, there was a sense of victory in it. Evolution had retained a title. And wasn't that what it was all about? Wasn't that what everything was about, now?

* * *

It hadn't been difficult, to avoid the guys once they'd headed back to the hotel. Holing herself up in her bedroom, Lita had remained in solitude with her thoughts, all of which seemed to centre around Randy, Evolution, her place in the faction and, increasingly, the stupid bet. Days later, and she was still in solitude, though she had flown to her mother's home the day before. Laying in her childhood bedroom, she had allowed her mother to fuss and fret, puffing up her pillows and asking questions about what Evolution was, what her role was and if it was always so dangerous. In fact, for her first twenty-four hours in the house, she had almost enjoyed her mother fussing around her. But it had grown tedious after a while, and upon waking she had sent her mother from her room, insisting that she go about her daily business. It was Christmas Eve, after all, and everyone would be rushing around, trying to get the last few trimmings for the next day's dinner. And, knowing her brother wouldn't be arriving until late that evening, she had embraced the quiet, the comfort that came from being left alone with her dog.

And yet, as she lay in bed, eating home-made soup and watching Christmas movies, it was impossible not to think about Victoria's words. What could the bet have been? Who had made it? It was Hunter, no doubt. Of that she was certain. And yet, what could he possibly gain from making a bet about her? And, who said it was even about her? Who said it was even true? Victoria was known for her lunacy and… "Ugh!" Lita groaned, throwing her head back onto the pillows, Mackenzie growling at the sudden movement. "And you can shut up too." She muttered, staring down at the terrier, once more contented with his chew.

She hadn't wanted to come to Florida for Christmas, in fact, she'd made plans to spend it on her own, watching eighties horror movies and eating steamed veggies and tofu, yet her mother had sounded so sad in her voice messages, begging her to have one last family Christmas, a chance for the family to catch up and hear all about the changes in Lita's life. Tired of disappointing people, she'd relented, booking a last-minute flight and embracing the nonsense which came with family dinner with her mother and brother.

_I wonder how the guys spend Christmas,_ she thought, reaching out to scratch Mackenzie behind the ear. She couldn't imagine Hunter wearing a party hat, or Dave playing Jenga with his family. In fact, she couldn't imagine Dave with a family, at all. Ric, of course, would return to his wife – was this his fourth? Fifth? She couldn't remember – and maybe even his kids. And Randy had his parents, siblings from what little he had mentioned. And yet she couldn't picture it, Randy and Bob Orton, watching Miracle on 34th Street. Her hand stilled in Mackenzie's fur and she groped around in the duvet for her phone. Bet or no bet, she was one of them. They were all she had, now. Typing out one quick message of _Merry Christmas for tomorrow_ she hurriedly sent it to her fellow Evolution members, before tossing her phone aside. It was a gesture. Nothing more.

Yet that didn't explain why she found herself grinning when, almost instantly, Randy responded with a simple, _You too._


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you guys, once again, for reading. It truly does mean the world - I've seen some new names pop up on the 'Following' list since the last chapter and it really does make me so excited whenever I see you! So, here we are, the last RAW of 2003 and where everything is about to start changing. Please read and review, leave me any feedback you guys have! I'll be over the moon to see it!

 

* * *

Despite enjoying the rare rest from the road which the 'Best of 2003' episode had brought allowed her, by the time Lita's plane touched down in San Antonio, she was itching to get back in front of the crowd and, though she was loathed to admit it, to see her fellow Evolution members. Besides the one text message from Randy on Christmas Eve, she hadn't heard from any of them. Instead of staying in contact, she had spent most of her 'rest' period at the gym, attempting to get back into the ring as soon as possible. Despite the pain in her back and ribs during any real lifting, she was certain she was match-fit and that she could take on the best of the best, something she brought up with Ric the moment he slipped into the limo.

"I don't think so, Princess," he replied, smoothing down his spotless – and no doubt expensive – new suit jacket. "We've got enough on our plate with Michaels tonight and the doc said you'd be out at least a month. We can't afford anything going wrong tonight."

"Nothing will go wrong! I've been working on my fitness and I don't even need painkillers day to day now. What could go wrong?" Ric pinched the bridge of his nose, and yet even she could hear the petulance in her voice, Lita continued. "I'm not asking for a title match – just even something against – I don't know! – Stacy or someone!"

"Lita, shut up," Hunter finally snapped, his voice low and hushed. Despite his initial pleasantries upon entering the vehicle, he had been cold and distant as they waited on the older man, ignoring the other occupants' attempts at conversation. "He said no. Maybe next week. But for now, can we just –" The blond man pressed his fingers together, motioning for quiet and, despite everything in her wanting to argue, Lita fell into silence. Randy, however, did not get the memo and, as he began an epic tale about some party in St. Louis, Lita rolled her eyes and mimicked Hunter, choosing to stare out of the window in silence.

It wasn't all bad, she reasoned, as the limo rolled through the streets of San Antonio; while she wouldn't be allowed to wrestle, she would still be in the arena and _that_ meant that she could speak to Victoria and ask her what on Earth she had meant by 'the bet'. Over the past two weeks, Lita had come up with a thousand theories as to what Victoria meant, each as unlikely as the last. The only bet she could think of was the one between Dave and Randy, but that had hardly been upsetting. In fact, it had been nothing more than a mild annoyance. Was that truly what Victoria had thought would tip her over the edge? Exhaling with the smallest of laughs, Lita ran a hand through her hair. Not everyone is as unstable as you, Victoria, she thought, though she still made a mental note to speak to the other woman. There was no harm, really, in clearing things up once and for all.

"So, you think it's a good idea, Hunt?" If Hunter had an opinion on Randy's idea, he was spared from having to give it as the limo drew to a halt. Without waiting for the driver to do it for him, Hunter threw open the door and stepped out into the parking lot, taking a deep breath as he waited for the rest to join him. _Is he really so worried to face Shawn?_ Lita wondered, escaping the car and staring at the man she had previously detested. It wasn't the first time they'd fought since DX disbanded, it wasn't even the first time they'd fought this month, yet the look in Hunter's eyes at the very mention of his former best friend. _Is that how I'll look when people mention Trish, one day?_

Placing a hand on his arm for just a second, Lita nodded almost knowingly, and the two began to walk towards the main body of the arena, Hunter's game face appearing almost instantly. "Time to start the show," he said, that deadly smile tugging at his lips as he pushed open the doors, allowing his 'family' entry.

* * *

It was strange, really, how at ease she felt in the locker room. Sitting back on a plush couch, eating peanuts and watching as Randy made some sort of speech about Mick, she felt weirdly comfortable, like this was something she had missed out on previously. "He should be nicer to Lilian," she said, popping another peanut in her mouth. "You all should. She's nice." Just the very words made her miss the ring announcer – they weren't particularly close, if truth be told. Their circles barely integrated, but Lilian was so kind to everyone. Yet Lita saw the looks she gave Evolution and, while she could hardly blame her when Randy spoke to her the way she did, she couldn't help the gnawing feeling she got in her stomach. Just another something she had sacrificed for Evolution, she thought though, where previously it had been a sad thought, it was simply a dull ache. Almost unnoticeable, actually.

Hunter opened his mouth to respond, though he was cut off by the television screen announcing a 'Shawn Michaels Moment'. Biting his lip until Lita was certain it was bleeding inside, Hunter stared at the screen, jaw tight and eyes unblinking. Was this Mick Foley's doing, Lita wondered? "Turn this off," she said, reaching for the remote and breaking through the tension. Pressing the power button, Lita turned to the men, shaking her head. "You guys have enough on your plate, come on!" Taking a deep breath, she pointed towards Ric. "Are you ready to go sort out the Dudleys? Dave, have you even stretched?" she recognised that tone in her voice, the one her mother used on her as a child when she refused to take part in school games. "And you – you're Triple H! You're not psyched out by some stupid VT spot, are you? So, he won a match six years ago, big deal! You won one two weeks ago – the one that matters. Fuck Shawn Michaels, fuck Mick Foley. Fuck everyone else!"

The door to the locker room opened as she finished her impassioned speech, a laugh escaping Randy as he stepped into the room. "I think the girls have you covered on that one," he replied, closing the door behind him. "The divas are out there in little Santa outfits, barely anything covered…" Turning back to Lita, he grinned. "That could have been you, if you hadn't been rescued by us."

"Yeah, yeah. My knights in shining armour," she replied, a roll of her eyes following, though the mention of the divas did have her interest. "Was Victoria out there?"

"Think so. Why?"

"I'll be right back," and with that she was gone, out into the corridor in an attempt to catch up with the divas and get Victoria alone, leaving the guys to stew on what she had said. Before the door of the locker room had even closed behind her, she had spotted the dark-haired diva, scowling in pigtails and a Mrs Clause outfit. "Victoria? Victoria, can we talk?"

"What do you want?" Victoria asked, tugging at the white, fluffy hem of her skirt. "Come to gloat that you don't have to dress up like some sort of –" Breaking off, she made a scathing noise in the back of her throat and Lita knew she would have to work fast before Victoria dissolved into madness, the way she had done during their previous encounter.

"No – God, no. But, for what it's worth, you, uh, you do look great," ignoring the look the other woman gave her, Lita smiled before continuing. "What I wanted to ask you was, well, last time you spoke, you mentioned a bet and – "

"And you wanted to know what I was talking about?" Victoria laughed, rolling her eyes. "Well, well, well." Taking Lita's silence for an answer, Victoria folded her arms across her chest, grinning in a way that left the other woman uneasy. "You're not so different to us, you know? The other divas. Just because you ride in a fancy limo and have Eric Bischoff running around, trying to wipe your ass. You're just like us. Just another pretty little thing, another 'piece of ass'." Watching Lita's reaction, Victoria barked out another laugh. "And on top of that, you're only worth a dollar." Pausing, she leaned in, staring into Lita's eyes. "A Canadian dollar."

Not waiting for Lita to respond, Victoria walked away, heading for the ring, leaving behind her only the scent of her perfume and one very confused redhead.

* * *

Standing at gorilla alongside Randy, Booker T's ring song shaking the walls around them, Lita tried to remain focused, though it had been difficult since her chat with Victoria. Stealing another glance at Randy, she tried to hide the hurt on her face, frowning when he questioned what was wrong. "It's nothing. It doesn't matter," she repeated, for the second time. If he was unhappy with her answer, he did little to show it, nodding his head and turning his attentions to shining his title. "Randy, do you… It doesn't matter."

"What? Do I what?" he asked, turning to face her, irritation clipping his words.

"Do you think I'm like the other divas?" she asked, the words blurting from her lips just as the stage hand motioned for them both to head out onto the ramp. The match seemed to blur together for Lita, who's mind was focused on the answer Randy hadn't given. Was he one of the one's who'd been involved in the bet? _A bet for a dollar…_ It had Hunter written all over it, but there had to be two people involved in a bet. Would it be worse if the other person was Randy? Worse than Dave or Ric? Watching him in the ring, she tried not to think about it, to think about _him_. Everything about him was so confusing, so conflicting and she knew she couldn't give the match her full attention when her mind was so preoccupied. Still, it wasn't the shake of her head which cleared her mind but the fiery heat of the pyros and the loud bang which signalled Kane's ring song.

Instinct kicked in and she ran for Randy's title belt, grabbing it from where it lay as Randy pinned Booker, ensuring he remained the champion. As he slipped from the ring, Lita reached for his hand, holding it up in victory for just a second before half dragging him up the ramp, keen not to spend as little time around Kane as possible. Even the thought of him made her back and ribs twinge, her previously bruised cheek tingling as she spotted the man who had caused her injuries. Her stomach rolled, her heart thumping almost painfully against her rib cage as her lungs struggled for air. The closer he drew, the more her chest hurt, her throat tightening as she willed her legs to move, to get her to safety. Yet Kane seemed focused on the ring, not on Lita or even Randy who urged the redhead forward, warm hand on her back as he pushed her out of Kane's line of sight so that they could escape as quickly as possible. It caused her to stumble, though Randy grabbed at her arm, hauling her back to her feet before she fell.

Once her legs found their strength, the two made it back to gorilla, her hands shaking as she handed over the title belt. "He's so… Fuck, I don't even know. Just seeing him so close…" Lita struggled to breathe as she tried to explain what had happened out there, why she'd turned to stone. "I kept thinking about the last time and – "

"So did I," Randy replied, not meeting her eye as he took the title from her. "I didn't mean to push you, I just wanted you out of the way. Since I didn't last time."

"So you _do_ think I'm like the other divas," she replied, taking a deep breath and looking him square in the eye. "Just another pretty little thing who needs saving?"

"What? What is this all about?" Randy's face contorted in confusion as he stared at her.

"What is it – I should be flattered? You protect me and I'm so grateful that I fall into your bed and –" Randy cut her off, a large hand cupping her cheek and holding her in place as his lips met hers. For a second, she hesitated, not sure what to make of his actions. Was he just going to deny it like last time? The reminder that there were witnesses, even if it was only the stagehands, made her respond after a fashion, and she smiled against his lips. When, eventually, he pulled away from her, breaking contact, she stared blankly at him.

"No, Lita. I don't think you're like the other divas at all."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The last few days since I posted chapter 11 really have been a roller coaster - I've considered pulling this story completely, restarting it, editing it and just plain not finishing it. But then I got struck by inspirational lightning and before I knew it, I was writing like a woman possessed. So, to those who read or reviewed, thank you so much. I can assure you that you definitely played a part in me wanting to continue. I may edit/correct a few chapters further down the line but right now, we're going for it. I hope you enjoy this chapter - please, please, please, read and review.

 

* * *

"We should get back to the locker room or the guys will think someone's jumped us," Randy said, his voice barely audible over the blood rushing in Lita's ears and the fans on the other side of the curtain. For a second, she had been able to forget they weren't alone, to block out the fact that Kane was out in the ring beating the hell out of Booker T and to pretend that the stage hands all around weren't awkwardly avoiding eye contact with them. Heat flooded her cheeks – she had never been awkward or nervous about kissing Matt backstage, yet kissing Randy had felt so different, something strange and forbidden. As though echoing her thoughts, he cleared his throat, "And, uh, maybe we don't tell the guys – "

"That you kissed me. Got it," Lita finished, the unfamiliar feeling of butterflies catching her off guard. "Come on, before Hunter has a conniption. Can't have anything going wrong on his big day, now, can we?" Pushing her hair from her face, Lita smiled, looking up at the Intercontinental Champion briefly. "Besides, I don't wanna be hanging around back here when Kane is done with Booker, do you?" Turning on her heel and ignoring the stares and whispers – she was sure she heard whispers – behind them, she headed off in the direction of the locker room, not waiting for Randy to follow. It couldn't be him, she reasoned, trying to stop the smile which tugged at her lips. Even if this wasn't some ridiculous game or mistake on Victoria's part – why would someone who had a bet on her want to keep their kiss a secret? No, she thought, pushing open the door to the Evolution locker room. There probably never was a bet. But if there was… it wasn't Randy who made it with Hunter.

As the door closed behind Randy, Lita took her seat on the edge of the sofa, pulling the World Heavyweight Title into her lap and watching as Hunter stretched in front of her. Her reasoning had left her sure that if there was a bet, he was certainly involved, yet she felt nothing. There was no anger or disgust, or even disappointment. In fact, looking down at the title belt in her hands, she found that she still wanted him to do well, to beat Shawn Michaels. "You're too loyal, Lita," Trish had told her upon her return to the WWE. "Look at you – you're bleeding! Are you even cleared to wrestle? Is this even okay? You didn't have to rush back for me…" It felt like the conversation had taken place just days before, not over three months past, and Lita remembered exactly what she'd said in response.

A mouth full of blood, she had looked back at her best friend, the one she'd risked her own safety for, and laughed, "It doesn't matter – we won." _Guess there was always a little bit of Evolution in me_ , she thought, smiling softly at the memory.

"So, what do you say, Princess?" Ric's voice cut through her reverie, her head snapping up to look at him. All sharp tailoring and wicked grin, Ric's presence, though unwelcomed in the past, had become almost familiar, a slightly sleazy, cheating presence that somehow made her feel at home and Lita raised an eyebrow, unaware that she should have been listening to him. "About the match?"

"You want me to go out with you, Hunter?" she asked, turning to face the World champion as Randy, Dave and Ric laughed at her.

"Told you she wasn't listening," Randy replied, tossing himself down on the sofa beside her, nudging her in the ribs slightly. "Her eyes were all glazed over. Better watch yourself, Hunt – the way she was looking at your belt, I'd say it's not Molly's title she's after."

"Shut up, Orton. Sorry, Ric, I got a bit distracted – what were you saying about a match?"

"What do _you_ say about kicking off 2004 with a bang? Lita versus Molly Holly for the Women's Championship – first match of 2004. Bischoff's already agreed," Ric repeated, rubbing his hands together. It was ridiculous, the feeling his words gave her – perhaps even stranger than the butterflies Randy's kiss had left her with – and within seconds, she was on her feet, throwing herself into Ric's arms through a multitude of 'thank yous' and almost knocking him out with the Heavyweight belt.

Realising that the other three occupants of the room were staring at her – and, in Dave's case, openly laughing, slapping his knee in a way that Lita thought only happened in movies – she released the older man, smoothing down her shirt and praying that the colour of her face didn't match her hair. "I mean, uh, thanks Ric. I won't let you down," she replied, desperately trying to maintain her cool. These guys had made their career on being cool, calm and collected and here she was, acting like a school girl.

"We know." It was only two words, yet from Hunter it seemed to mean more than she would have thought. He knew she wouldn't mess up – they all did.

Crossing the room, she held out the title belt to him. "You've got a match to win," she smiled, not truly knowing how she was supposed to interact with Hunter. He was still an anomaly to her. "Go on, you should start heading down to gorilla. We'll be watching from back here." It was the kindest thing she could have said, she supposed, and when Hunter took the title from her, nodding his head in acknowledgment, she was sure that there was some sort of mutual understanding.

"So….?" Randy began the moment the door closed behind Hunter and Ric, watching the redhead as she returned to the sofa.

"So, what?"

"How does it feel knowing that in a week's time you'll be Women's Champion?" Perching on the edge once more, Lita turned her attentions to the television in the room. This had been what it was all about, she had taken her place in Evolution for this chance.

"You can't get involved – either of you," she replied, not looking at either of the men in the room. "Even if Molly is going to win. You have to let me do this on my own." Ignoring the scathing noise that came from Dave, she continued. "I just want to say that I did it, you know? No cheating, no interruptions. All me."

"Unlike us, you mean?"

"Unlike us." She repeated.

* * *

Despite the strange unity she had felt with the rest of the faction earlier in the night, Lita couldn't say she was all that conflicted over the outcome of the match. In fact, it was the exact sort of fuckery she expected from Eric Bischoff and Steve Austin these days. Still, she wouldn't pretend she was glad that Bischoff had proclaimed Hunter the winner – she couldn't imagine the attitude of Hunter if he lost the title again and even if she was feeling closer to the men in Evolution, she couldn't exactly condone another bounty being put on someone's head. And so, while the guys had insisted on going over the match, play-by-play in Ric's hotel room, Lita had sloped off to her own. Her flight back home was early the next morning, and she wanted to make sure she had everything ready to up and leave.

Yet here she was, rewatching Raw on her own, watching every move Molly Holly made during her tag team match earlier in the evening. _I'm coming for you, Molly,_ she thought. _You_ _ **and**_ _your title._ The knock at the door was soft and almost went unnoticed, yet Lita already knew who was on the other side.

"Thought you'd be asleep," Randy said, when the door opened. With a shake of her head, Lita pointed towards the television, where Trish, Stacy and Jacqueline were celebrating their win. "Ah." Closing the door behind him, Randy made himself comfortable in the room, sitting himself down on the unmade bed and stretching out, arms crossed behind his head against the headboard before Lita had even turned around.

"Did you want something?" Lita asked, eyebrow raised as she moved to grab a pair of boots and stuff them into her suitcase. "I really do have to pack, you know?"

"I thought you'd want to talk," Randy replied, glancing between the diva and the television screen. "Chicks usually want to talk after we kiss." Seeing the horrified look which crossed her face, he smirked. "Knew that would get you." Chuckling, he leaned across, grabbing for the remote and turning the television off before his own match could start. "I don't know – you left Ric's pretty quickly. I thought something was up."

"No – sometimes when a woman says a thing, she really means that thing. Like 'I have to pack' or 'no' for example," Lita replied, folding up the shirt she'd worn earlier that night. "Why are you really here, Orton?"

"Maybe _I_ wanted to talk?"

"Well, now's your chance. What do you _maybe_ want to say?" A laugh escaped her lips as she humoured him. Part of her had wanted to speak to him earlier, to ask what was going on, why he'd kissed her, if it would happen again and a whole host of other, stupid questions but she'd had more important things to think about – things like her career and her future title.

"Why'd you ask if I thought you were like the other divas?" The question caught her off guard and Lita stopped in her tracks, staring at him. It hadn't been the topic of conversation she'd been expecting. "Where'd that come from?"

"Just something someone said, it doesn't matter. Why'd you have to kiss me to prove otherwise?" she challenged, not wanting to discuss Victoria's comments. That was for another time. Or never. She hadn't quite decided, yet.

"You don't listen," Randy pushed himself into a more upright position, looking her in the eye. "I have always rated you as a wrestler – even back when you were hanging around Essa Rios. I've tried to tell you I think you're way above their level. I would never have – well, you wouldn't be in Evolution if you weren't."

"You kissed me because I'm a good wrestler? Well shit, HBK is really in for it, huh? You might even rent out a room," she laughed, refolding the same shirt she held in her hands.

"No, I kissed you because for some inexplicable reason, you don't react when I try to flirt with you. Or when your life is literally in danger. Which is pretty fucked up, by the way," he added, chuckling as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I kissed you because you gave me a chance. Or at least, you stopped treating me like the enemy. But mostly, cause I wanted to. Simple as that."

Fingers buried in the soft, worn cotton, Lita stared at the floor, digging her toes into the soft carpet. "Victoria said…"

"Victoria?" Randy repeated, cutting her off. "Victoria? The chick who tugs her hair out in handfuls when she doesn't win a match? That Victoria?" Lita laughed, nodding her head. "Tell me, what did that Victoria have to say?"

"I don't necessarily want to be different. I mean, I do. But I'm still a Diva," Lita took a deep breath, folding her shirt for the third time. "You guys all think the Divas division is a joke. Don't deny it. I've been back since September – I've seen the way you guys look at the Divas. Our matches are a chance to get us half-dressed and touching each other. We're no more than eye-candy to you guys."

"Again, with the not listening."

"Let me finish!" Lita insisted, sighing as she looked back at him. "I've been the joke. Hell, not two months ago you stood there and laughed when Hunter offered me a dollar to dance. Yet now you're telling me – all four of you – that you believe in me? That I'm sort of female messiah for the wrestling world? You have to see how that would be hard to believe, right? What makes me different? Why did you guys want me in Evolution?"

"We've been through this, Lita. Ric told you the first night – "

"I don't believe it. The 'Elite' Diva? Who got her ass handed to her in her last few matches? I haven't won a match since October yet you expect me to believe Ric Flair thinks that's Elite? Fuck that." She hadn't expected the conversation to take this sort of turn, all of her doubts spilling from her lips faster than she could stop them, eclipsing any and all thoughts of a bet. "So, what was it? Am I still just a joke? I get it, I can wrestle. But so can Victoria, Trish, Gail – fuck, even Molly. Why me?"

"Because you're better than them," Randy argued, his voice louder than either of them would have liked and his hands balled into fists. He took a deep breath before continuing at a much quieter level. "Even if you don't win – you're still better. And with us behind you, you can win."

"So, you think I'm a better wrestler, but I still need to cheat to win? Bullshit. Just…just leave, Orton. I have shit to do," tossing her shirt down onto the bed, she crossed the room and opened the door, motioning for him to get out; any camaraderie she had felt for Evolution earlier was long gone, the butterflies she had felt when Randy kissed her forgotten. "If you can't be honest with me, I don't see why I should waste my time listening. Out."

She expected him to argue. A part of her even wanted him to, so she could yell and vent her frustrations and just try to make sense of all of the pointless, confusing thoughts she had every time she was in Evolution's presence. Yet he didn't. Getting to his feet, he crossed the room in a few long strides, turning to look at her only when he was on the other side of the door.

"It was me," he said, shrugging his shoulders yet never breaking eye contact. "I wanted you in Evolution. Not Ric. Not Dave. Definitely not Hunter. I did. Hunter was pissed, but I didn't care. I'd already used my Survivor Series favour to get you your job back. And I'd do it again. Because – for some fucked up reason – I do think you're better than all of those other divas. But I think you're fucking insane, too. And I don't think you need us behind you to win. But we are. All four of us. Because of me. So, there you go. There's your answer." If he wanted an reply from her, he didn't wait for one, striding off down the corridor to his own room looking, for the first time, like an average twenty-three-year-old. There was no pomp or arrogance in him as he walked away, his shoulders slumped in defeat. And Lita watched, waiting for things to make sense, but as he rounded the corner of the hallway and moved out of sight, she was left with more questions than she had answers, and she knew sleep was not something she would see that night.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Guys, I am so sorry to keep you waiting for this chapter! Between finals and work being extra hectic, I've had zero time to write, but I've grabbed a few hours and got this done on total adrenaline, instinct and caffeine. It's now four in the morning and I'm working a shift in a couple hours but I don't even care because I've been so excited to write this story again! Hope you guys enjoy it and, as ever, please leave feedback! 

 

It took two attempts for Lita to open the limousine door, wiping her hand on her jeans between attempts. For the last six days, she'd played this scenario over and over in her mind – the first time she'd see Evolution since Randy had blurted out the reason for her joining them – and each time she'd played it out, it had had a different outcome. She'd mostly thought about the others – about Ric, Hunter and Dave – and what she should do concerning them: should she tell them that she knew they didn't want her? That Randy had gone against Evolution protocol and threw away a title shot and forced her on them of his own accord? The last part had weighed heavily on her mind and her thoughts had quickly turned dark, ignoring the Randy she thought she'd come to know and focusing on the preconceived notions she'd had months before: had this all been part of his plan? To get her in and gain her trust, to pounce when she was weak and vulnerable? As she slipped into the limousine, her hair shrouded her face, giving her a second or two longer to remove any traces of disappointment from her face.

"There she is!" Ric's voice boomed, rattling around the back of the limousine. The eldest member of Evolution grinned across at her, looking every bit the proud mentor and Lita swallowed, offering a weak smile in return. The pride on his face seemed so genuine, yet she had given him little cause to be proud so far. "The future Women's Champion. You all set for your match?"

"Haven't left the gym all week," she replied, fingers clawing at a hangnail. That much was true enough, though it had been less about preparing for her title match and more about the fact that she couldn't think about Randy when she was so physically exhausted. "Molly won't know what's hit her."

"That's my girl!" For a second, Lita found herself laughing – genuine, real laughter – as she nodded. Ric hadn't wanted her, Randy said, yet she had a hard time believing it, with the way he spoke. He truly seemed to believe in her. Even Hunter, chuckling along, seemed to. Perhaps things had changed, now she had shown her allegiance. "Driver, that's us."

As the limousine's engine rumbled to life, Lita frowned. "What about Randy?" she asked, her eyes darting between the three men in the back of the limo with her. Despite Dave's massive legs taking up most of their side and Hunter sprawled across almost two seats beside Ric, the already spacious limousine seemed vast and empty without Randy's presence.

When no one answered, Dave's eyes flickered from the cell phone in his hand, looking at his mentors before responding. "He's busy," he said, eyes returning to the phone. "He'll meet us at the arena."

"Is this something to do with Mick Foley?" she asked, her voice cracking with thinly veiled hope. He had been discussing some wild plan about campaign videos a few weeks back in the limo back to the hotel, and Lita clung desperately to this thought. If he had some stupid plan to piss off Foley, maybe his absence wasn't about her – maybe things wouldn't be as awkward as she feared when she finally saw him.

"No." Dave's flat response quickly deflated her, shoulders slumping as any questions she might have had were shot down.

And while Hunter continued to flick through some fancy looking magazine and Dave's fingers rattled against the buttons of his cell, Ric took the reins with the conversation, already planning ahead for dinner and champagne to celebrate Evolution holding all the gold. "After all," he continued, though there was no objection from any of his travel companions. "We never got to celebrate after Armageddon…"

* * *

It felt wrong to have to ask, yet as Lita tied up her books, she cleared her throat, hoping for the attentions of her fellow Evolution members. "Will anyone be out there with me? I know Molly is, well, she doesn't have Jericho or Kane waiting to jump me or anything but…" Her last match had been so different – she had almost begged Randy not to come with her, swearing that she could handle Trish on her own – yet here she was, staring at the Tag Team Champions and praying one of them would be at ringside. Not to cheat, but to protect.

"The kid was going to be there but, uh, he's not here yet," Ric replied, looking abashed as he glanced at his watch for the umpteenth time in ten minutes. "But if you want the big man here at ringside, you just say the word."

She wanted Randy there; there was a sort of unpredictable predictability with the St Louis native – while she never knew exactly what he'd throw himself into, she could always guarantee that he'd be there, without question, should she need him. Dave was different and though she didn't doubt his loyalty, she couldn't help but wonder if he'd be as fast to save her. "Yes, please," she replied, her voice far meeker than she'd have liked.

"Time for me to get changed then," Dave said, sounding utterly bored as he grabbed his bag and headed off to change into his ring gear. _Great,_ thought Lita. _He hates me. The man who could crush my skull with his bare hands hates me._ It was an overreaction, of course – if anything, Dave seemed entirely unfussed by her presence at any given time – yet she couldn't help but jump to conclusions. In mere minutes, she would be heading out to face the Women's Champion, something her body was keen not to let her forget. As her stomach tumbled and threatened to expel the contents of her lunch, her heart thumped rapidly against her chest and her palms grew warm and clammy. In mere minutes, she corrected herself, she would _be_ the Women's Champion.

"You alright?" Hunter asked her, his concern shocking her, though he quickly changed that. "If you're going to throw up, do it in the shower."

"I won't. Just feel a bit nervous, is all," she replied, taking a deep breath. "Do you still get nervous when it comes to title matches – were you nervous at Armageddon? Even though you knew you could win, were you nervous?"

"The day you're not nervous going into a title shot is the day you give up wrestling," Hunter replied. "Doesn't matter how easy a match-up is – if you're fighting for that belt, you better feel something. Otherwise it means nothing to you." It was oddly sentimental, coming from him, yet Lita smiled and nodded, glad she had asked. "That being said, you better not fuck this up." Yet the look of horror which crossed her face at his words dissolved almost instantly when he laughed, shooting her a wink. "Get out of here – the big guy'll be waiting outside. And good luck."

"Not that she'll need it, eh, Champ?" Ric added, the two enjoying a chuckle together as Lita left the room. They believed in her. They wanted her to do well. They wanted her in Evolution. Even if they hadn't before – they did now. Right?

"I, uh, I know I'm not Orton," Dave said, pushing himself off of the wall and falling into step with her. "But I mean it – Molly pulls any shit out there, if it's Hardy or Jericho or…" He broke off with a shrug. "I got it. You stay in the ring, you get the title, I handle whatever goes on outside. Yeah?"

"I think that's the most you've said to me since I joined Evolution, you know?" Lita replied, her cheeks aching as she tried to suppress a smile. "But thank you. And I know you're not Randy. Orton. You're the freaking Animal. You got this."

When the Evolution ring music began, however, she couldn't help but glance back, wondering where Randy was. But thoughts like that would do her no favours, and she pushed him from her mind, bouncing on her toes before heading down the ramp, well aware that behind her was all the protection she would need. Nerves and fear seemed to dissipate as she entered the ring and waited until Molly Holly arrived. She could win this – she'd beaten Molly Holly before and she could do it again – and she didn't need to worry about any external interference. She didn't need to worry about anything but that title belt.

As blows between the two women were dealt, adrenaline seemed to take over, the crowd and the world outside that squared circle turning into little more than a blur and dropkicks, moonsaults and two-count kick-outs kept her going. After a particularly hard lionsault – for she couldn't quite bring herself to use the Twist of Fate, anymore – Lita rushed to the top rope, climbing it like it was second nature. Standing atop the turnbuckle, she took a deep breath, her heart hammering against her chest as the crowd seemed to come back into view, the sound of them erupting catching her off guard and she turned to see Trish Stratus running down the ramp. Wasting that split second had cost her dearly, however, and Molly grabbed her from behind, throwing her off the top rope. _You stay in the ring, you get the title. I handle whatever goes on outside._ It was all she could think as Molly hurtled an elbow into her stomach, taking the wind clear from her. Dave would deal with Trish. It wasn't a thought she relished, but at times like this, it was hard to understand her feelings towards her former best friend. Trying to gain momentum again, knowing that whatever was going on outside was probably not something she would have previously encouraged, was difficult and Molly seemed relentless in the blows to the back of her neck, the kicks to her stomach and the clothesline which near knocked her head off.

The sound of the referee's hand beating on the canvas spurred her into action and she kicked out, narrowly avoiding being pinned for a three-count. Turning to push herself to her feet, Lita was horrified at the sight – Dave was sorting things alright; he was involved in a two-on-one attack from Chris Jericho and Christian with Trish nowhere to be seen. Whipping herself around, she hunted for the blonde until Molly came barrelling at her – the redhead moved purely on instinct, grabbing at the other woman and hauling her into position, a Russian legsweep taking the champion down as Dave dealt a double clothesline outside the ring and Chris and Christian hitting the floor. Pushing the hair from her eyes, Lita headed once more to the top ring. She was quick, that much was true, but not quick enough to see the steel chair which flew in her direction, or the woman who wielded it.

The referee, distracted by the men outside the ring, missed the altercation and as Lita saw stars, her back connecting with the canvas once more, Trish dropped from the apron, grinning maniacally. Lying flat on her back, her head aching and the muscles in the rest of her body screaming in pain, Lita was aware of the commotion of the crowd, of Molly pinning her. She willed herself to fight, to kick out, yet her body wouldn't listen. _ONE_ … The referee's hand beat down on the canvas and Lita knew she had to kick out. _TWO_ … just one last push, that's all it would take. Just one shoulder off the canvas. And then it came, the loud crash of metal on skin and Lita flinched as the third count never sounded, though the bell soon did.

"And the winner, as a result of disqualification, and _still_ , WWE Women's Champion - Molly Holly," Lilian Garcia's voice rang out through the arena as Lita felt a hand close around her own, gruffly pulling her into a sitting position despite her body protesting. _Disqualification?_ _She hadn't done anything. Molly had pinned her._

"Come on – move, Lita!" Randy's voice was clear, harsh against the booing and cheering of the conflicted crowd.

Despite her legs feeling like jelly and that odd tingling sensation that always seemed to come from a chair shot, Lita forced herself to move across the ring, ungraceful as she was. Dave pulled up the bottom rope from his position outside the ring as Randy ushered her closer, even pushing her, underneath it. Once outside, Dave assisted her up the ramp, the three of them silent during their slow walk until they got behind the curtain. "They said I got disqualified – I heard the chair shot. Did Trish hit Molly?" Lita asked, head whipping to each side to look at both men, though her neck and back cramped in pain.

"I did," Randy replied, walking off to the side of his team mates, barely casting them a glance.

"You couldn't win, Lita. Not after that chair shot," Dave responded, looking only slightly drained. "Getting you disqualified means you lost on our terms. You were never pinned."

"And what about Trish? Where did she come from? I didn't see her and then… Jericho and Christian…Why were they there?" Rolling her shoulders, Lita sighed. Physically, it was nothing an ice pack and a long bath wouldn't fix, but her pride was something else.

"New number one contenders for the tag titles," Dave replied. "Thought they'd take me out before our match." Her silence echoed through the corridors as they headed back to the locker room and Dave, who was usually a man of few words, struggled to fill the silence. "Randy caught Trish as she tried to leave. Left her out cold."

"You guys can get me a rematch though, right?" Lita asked, ignoring the strange sensation she felt at the thought of Randy taking out Trish. She was so small, and Lita had seen him haul grown men around like they weighed nothing…

With a scathing noise in the back of his throat, Randy reached across to grab the handle of their locker room door, pushing it open as he spoke. "You're welcome."

* * *

It took longer than expected for her muscles to stop cramping but the steady stream of warm water on her neck and back had definitely done the trick. Truthfully, she had stayed in the shower just a few minutes extra, desperate to avoid the disappointed look she expected to see on Ric's face. Once she heard the door close behind Ric and Dave as they headed down to the ring for their match against the Dudley brothers, she dressed quickly before dragging a brush through her wet hair. The silence from the Evolution locker room had led her to believe it was empty yet as she padded, barefoot, from the shower area through to the locker room, the sight of Randy Orton, eyes trained on the muted television in front of him, stopped her in her tracks. Her hand stilled as she lowered the brush, crossing the room and taking a seat on the sofa opposite him. "Did Hunter go with them to the ring?" she asked. She tried to focus on the screen, though her eyes kept returning to the man in front of her. He wasn't dressed to wrestle, his grey button-down shirt wrinkled from his short time in the ring and his dress shoes polished to a shine, yet he had that look in his eye, the one he only seemed to get in the ring. It was a look of intensity, she supposed, though the Stinger commercial hardly required such attentions.

"He's off to scare Bischoff into giving you another title shot at the Rumble," Randy replied, eyes never leaving the screen.

It was hard not to smile at that. She hadn't mentioned the rematch once she'd got back into the locker room, grabbing her things and heading for a shower immediately, despite Ric's protesting that she could be concussed again. Evolution had taken care of it, though. They knew. Or perhaps Dave had mentioned it. Or Randy… No, she couldn't imagine he was in that sort of mood right then…

"You just keep saving me, huh?" she asked, tugging her knees to her chest and leaning her chin atop them. None of the scenarios she had played in her head had gone like this. None of them had seen him so angry, so quiet. "It's not that I'm not grateful – I am. Fuck… I had no idea you used your favour to get me my job back. I can _never_ repay you for that. I thought this was just a cruel plan of Bischoff's." Pausing, she waited for him to speak, but when no reply came, she continued. "I thought maybe Ric had caused it, too. He picked me to come to Raw, once and I figured it was… you know, he saw something back then, and maybe he still saw it. I never once guessed it would be you. I never even thought you knew who I was. Even when you handed Hunter that fucking dollar, I was sure that you just saw a nameless blur, just another diva."

As the RAW symbol took over the screen, alerting them that the commercials were over, she sighed, knowing she had little hope of getting his response now. "I know we've been over that. I know that you don't see me like that now. But when I first joined Evolution, things were different and then, when they weren't, it didn't really matter who made me a part of it. I didn't care. I was just glad they did…"

"Is there a point to this? Ric and Dave's match is about to start." Randy scratched at the skin underneath his watch, his short, ragged nails leaving small, red marks across his wrist that Lita stared at, unblinking.

"I just wanted to know why. I'm grateful – like I said, I could never, ever thank you for getting me my job back. I can't put into words how much it means to me, honest. But… _why?_ "

"Does it matter?"

"It does to me," Lita replied, hating how small her voice sounded.

The sigh which came from Randy seemed to go on forever and, when he shifted, turning his body to face her, Lita found herself unable to make eye contact with him. "Ric says I don't think enough. I just act and then I regret it when things go wrong." Even without the eye contact, Lita couldn't miss the physical wince which followed his words. "That's what happened. Don't make me regret it."

"You really didn't think about the consequence? That you could have anything you wanted and Bischoff couldn't say no, but you chose to throw that away to get a diva you never spoke to her job back?"

"That's it. Call it madness – Hunter did. Now, are we done?"

"I guess," Lita replied, dragging her bottom lip between her teeth. "I just wanted to say thanks again, then. For helping me tonight. And for getting me my job back."

"Don't mention it."

"I – "

"Seriously. Don't mention it. I don't want to talk about it and I don't want the guys to know I told you. It's over. Forget it. If you need to tell yourself that Ric handpicked you to make you sleep better, then do that. But drop it, okay? This is done."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the wait, I've been going between super busy and super ill, and as a result it's been difficult to get a chance to write. On top of this, I originally wrote this chapter as perhaps the longest chapter I've ever written though, as you can see, it's much shorter now. I'd taken it in a direction I wasn't all that happy with and so, now that I have a few days to really throw myself into the story, work hard on the direction I wanted it to go in originally, I'm hopefully going to get another chapter out soon, one that I'm confident in. For now, however, heres chapter 14. Hope you love it! As always, please read and review, I really do love to hear your feedback.

 

* * *

It wasn't something Lita did, making herself so vulnerable – even when she had been with Matt, she had always made sure she was certain of his feelings, before voicing her own, to avoid getting hurt. This, she supposed, smoothing down her t-shirt, wasn't all that different: she was very much aware of how Randy felt – he'd made himself very clear back at the arena – yet here she was anyway. Raising her hand, she knocked against the door of the hotel room, holding her breath as she waited for a response. A couple of seconds passed and Lita exhaled on a sigh. Had he fallen asleep? She doubted it. He probably just didn't want to speak to her; he'd avoided eye contact with her for the rest of the night, not saying so much as two words to her on the drive back to the hotel. Leaning against the wall beside the door, forehead pressed to the cold wall, she knocked again. "Randy? Randy it's me. I know you said it was done," she began, muttering 'whatever that means' under her breath. "But it's not. Not for me. And I'm not leaving this hallway until you open the door. I have something to say and I'd really rather not say it out in the open, okay?"

They had all agreed, after the night Evolution had had, that it was best they didn't go out after the show, the celebrations Ric had planned put on hold once again. After they'd all gone back to their respective hotel rooms, Lita had sat on her bed, waiting until silence fell in Ric's room, which sat between Randy's and her own. Once she was certain that he'd fallen asleep, however, she'd forced herself to her feet and out into the hallway, scared if she waited any longer she would never get this over with.

Randy's silence on the other side of the door made her wish she had stayed in her room, but she'd started now and there was no going back. Sighing again, she turned around, taking a seat with her back to the wall – she was going to have to be comfortable here, if she were to get it all out. "Fine, I'll say it through the door, but if Ric hears me, it's all on you." Taking a deep breath, she tried to remember the words she'd practiced in her hotel room, rehearsing them until they seemed somewhat coherent. But now, now that she needed to say them, the words came at her in a jumble, making no sense and leaving her without the plan she had finessed. "I don't know what it is I'm trying to say. But I know I need to say it. For the longest time, I thought you were an asshole – all of you, not just you. I had all these preconceived notions of how you were or what you were. And I was wrong," leaning her head back, she tried not to sound too emotional, too weak, though every word seemed to choke her. "The past few months have been really tough for me, you know? Coming back from my neck and then losing my job, my boyfriend, even my friends. But the more I think about it…the more time I think about the good things, the things that really did make me happy since all of that happened... the more I realise that you're involved in all of them."

Swallowing hard, she ran her hands through her hair. "I know you get all weird on me when I say 'thank you' or try to talk to you about anything that's happened between us, and I'm not expecting you to say anything… Shit, I don't know." A dry laugh escaped her and she shook her head. "If someone had told me in the summer that I'd be sitting here, trying to tell Randy Orton that I have some sort of feelings for him I'd have laughed at them. But since we've spent more time together I – I don't even know. I want to spend _more_ time with you and I get – I get that if you don't feel the same, that's fine. But I don't want you to be mad at me. And I don't really know why you are." She'd gotten off track. She was just rambling, now, talking at him in the hope that he would answer her, and somehow, she'd left herself more confused than when she'd begun.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry that I didn't say thank you for tonight and that the title was all I could think about. I know you didn't have to do that. That all of the things you've done for me these past few months… You didn't have to do any of them. But you did. And I don't think for one minute that you did them 'just because'. Maybe I'm delusional – maybe it's from the chair shot earlier – but I think you know what I'm talking about. We don't behave like normal tag team partners. We don't behave like we're even friends… But there's something there and I know you feel it and –"

The tell-tale 'ping' of the elevator stopped her midsentence and she pushed to her feet, far faster than she would have thought possible. The last thing she needed was Hunter or Dave finding her sitting outside Randy's room, or hearing the things she had been about to say. Panic set in and she rushed back to her own room, childish, though she knew it was. Whoever it was must have heard the bang of the door as they exited the elevator, and she pressed her eye to the spy-hole in her door, waiting to see if Dave or Hunter came into view. It could have been a stranger, of course. The hotel was fairly large and, though Evolution had paid quite a bit of money for five of the most expensive rooms on the floor, there were another three that may or may not have been occupied. _It doesn't matter,_ she thought, though she stayed by the door. _He doesn't care. This is just a waste of time…_ As she moved to step away from the door, to head back to her bed and wonder why on Earth she'd just told the youngest member of Evolution that she had feelings for him – feelings which clearly were unreciprocated – she heard the noise, the unmistakeable sound of heels on the flooring outside. "Steph?" she thought, eye returning to the spy-hole.

The blonde passing by her door, however, was not Stephanie McMahon, but Stacy Keibler, and from what Lita could see, she was wearing very little. "So, about that coffee…" she heard her purr, the little giggle which followed causing Lita's stomach to turn. God, she's embarrassing, the redhead thought, watching as she tugged a man by the hand. The spy-hole gave very limited viewing, though she saw enough as the man's suit jacket moved up his arm, showing off a very expensive watch and the end of a tribal tattoo that Lita would have known anywhere.

"Actually," she heard him reply as she pulled away from the spy-hole and turned away, his footsteps passing by her door. "I'd rather have you." Normally, she'd have scoffed at the dreadful line, but nothing came but tears. Leaning against the door, she wiped at her eyes, hating herself for letting a man get her so upset. _At least he didn't hear me,_ she tried to tell herself as she slid downwards, her legs giving way as she allowed herself to cry. _At least he doesn't know._


End file.
